


The Year That Never Was

by DoctorWhat



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alpha - Freeform, Dark, Definitely brainwashing, Doctor fights back!, Doctor is being manipulated, Dom/sub, Don’t read this if you find any of the tags triggering. This is dark., Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental illness trigger warning!!, Mutual Pining, Omega/Alpha/Beta Dynamics, Please look after yourself and heed the warnings., Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, The Master Has Issues (Doctor Who), Thoschei, i do not condone this behaviour, in no way a healthy relationship, nothing is explicit tho, omega - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 70,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorWhat/pseuds/DoctorWhat
Summary: Martha Jones is walking the Earth to destroy the Master.The Doctor is imprisoned by the Master on the Valiant, and the Doctor ends up giving into evil desires that he then regrets...“𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵... 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. “𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦.” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺. “𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴! 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯!” 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬, “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm), Tenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)/Lucy Saxon, The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 156
Collections: Doctor Who Fanfics





	1. Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! Leave a Kudos or a comment if you do, I really appreciate it. Brings me joy :)

“Doctor!” His voice rang, as the door opened and there came the Master, strutting into the room.

“Come here, boy! Come to your Master.” He called, patronisingly, clapping his hands together. The food bowl outside of the Doctor’s tent labelled, ‘ _DOG_ ,’ explained exactly what was going through the Master’s head.

The Doctor had learned that disobeying him meant Martha Jones’s family being tortured in front of him, and he really didn’t want that. The Doctor couldn’t bear to cause any more pain for them, let alone watch. So, sighing quietly, he crawled out of his tent to see him, just as the Master commanded.

The Doctor stood up, slowly, and Francine Jones immediately rushed up to help him. The forced ageing the Master had inflicted upon him made every bone in his body ache. Francine helped him into his wheelchair, and the Doctor sat down, gratefully. She then pushed the wheelchair so he was sitting beside the Master at the long table.

“Everyone - _leave_.” He commanded, quietly. The Doctor found himself surprised by this order. He didn’t need to say it loudly. Even in the large room, all of the guards heard, including Francine and Tish.

“Uh, ar-are you sure, sir?” One of them asked, nervously, eyeing the Doctor.

The Master didn’t answer. Only looked at him, and the Master’s hard gaze told the guard the answer straight away. Some footsteps exiting and a with a small click, the door had been shut, and the Doctor and the Master was left alone.

“So, what do you think, Doctor?” He asked, “Of my _rule_ , of course.”He added, quickly.

“Terrifying.” The Doctor replied, coldly.

He gasped, and touched his chest where his hearts were, “I’m touched!” He said, gleefully.

_“That wasn’t a complement.”_ The Doctor snapped

“ _Of course_ it’s a complement,” He replied, smoothly, “I am extremely flattered! - You _know_ how to make your Master happy.” He said, smiling slyly at the Doctor.

The Doctor felt himself stiffen slightly. He certainly hadn’t meant to complement the Master. And yet... thinking about it, ‘terrifying _’_ was obviously a word that the Master would _love_. _Idiot, Doctor. Not thinking straight. This place - being imprisoned, it must be effecting him._

“You know if you keep being so _good_ like this, _I’ll have to reward_ you.” He said, clearly impressed by the Doctor’s flattery.

“Don’t worry. You can continue punishing me. It won’t happen again.” The Doctor replied, flatly.

“Shame,” He shrugged, casually, “I mean I do enjoy punishing you, of course... But I’d love to treat you occasionally, for being so... _docile._ It suits you, you know - it makes my _hearts ache_ with delight.”

“Oh, no. _Delight_? I wouldn’t want _that_.” He replied, shortly. The Doctor’s mind drifted away from their conversation, as he stared at one of the Toclafane hovering in the corner of the room. _What were they?_ He still didn’t know.

“The Toclafane...” The Master murmured, watching the Doctor, “You still haven’t worked it out yet.” He said, with a smug smile. “ _Really_ , I’m keeping it from you for your own sake! _Your hearts would break!_ ” He said, standing up to pace, _“_ Anyway, I think I am going to reward you.” He said, his nose upturned, thoughtfully, “It’s so very lucky that I can do this. You’re hideously old, must be _painful_.”

Suddenly, he pointed his laser screwdriver at the Doctor dramatically.

The pain was intense, but as he writhed, he felt it somehow making him stronger. Strange. His limbs stretched out, his arms lengthened, he was able to sit up, he could breathe freely again. He looked down, and saw with shock that he was young again.

“There we go.” The Master said, sitting back down to admire the Doctor more closely. “You know, you _smell lovely...”_ He said, shuffling closer to nuzzle softly against the Doctor’s neck, “The stench of _Omega_ is all over you... You must be on heat soon.”

The Doctor held his breath. He felt awkward in the Master’s presence. So close to him. He had made him young again - _why_? He didn’t know what to do with his hands. “We could have a lot of fun, you know,” The Master said, “With me _ruling the universe.”_

The Doctor swallowed. Hopefully, The Master wouldn’t be ruling the universe - if everything went to plan, Martha Jones would save the Earth. “You could be my... number two... no, _lieutenant_... _no_ \- what about, _subordinate_?” He said, with a grin.

“No - never.” The Doctor replied, calmly. “Enjoy your rule, Master. _Alone_.”

The Master stood up, abruptly. His back was now turned to the Doctor. “Lucy’s _so_ _boring_.” He whined, quietly. “She’s _human_.” He spat the word out as though it were disgusting. “Just a _pet_. But you... _You_ , oh you could be _so much more_ ,” He said hungrily, turning around to face the Doctor, “You could be so _much_ more fun to play with! And you’d enjoy it too, I can guarantee it.” He said, “I’ll give you _whatever you want.”_ He added, gently, sitting down and leaning in closely to stroke the Doctor’s jawline.

“You know what I want.” The Doctor responded, frigidly. He was trying to ignore the other Time Lord’s touch. His fingers were icy cold, and yet, somehow soothing. As though a burn was having cool ice pressed against it.

Of course, the Doctor wanted the Master to free the Earth from his tyranny. Destroy the Paradox Machine. _Destroy_ the Toclafane.

“And you know that’s not an option. I can’t stop now.” The Master said, quietly. “I’m rebuilding the new _Time Lord Empire_. As the last Time Lord left in existence, apart from me, _you_ are _very_ precious to me. I’m doing this for _us_ \- for the Time Lords! You blew them up, if you remember! I’m the one making things _right_.” He snapped.

“Well then, there’s nothing I want-”

“-Do you like being young?” The Master asked, suddenly. “If rewards won’t persuade you, then perhaps more punishment _will_.” The Master hit him, pulling the Doctor off the chair and punching him in the stomach, so he shouted in pain. The Doctor backed away slowly, bent double.

“You know that won’t work on me.” The Doctor grunted, clearly disappointed in the lack of brains and creativity gone into his punishment.

“I know,” He laughed, heartily, as though they had just had a lovely conversation, “Sorry, I couldn’t resist! It’s just so fun.” The Master began to walk towards the door, as though he were about to exit. When he stopped, turning his head to the side so the Doctor could see his face. “I’ll give you twenty four hours to think about it. Just agree, be _compliant to my wishes,_ and life here could be quite _delightful_ for you.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“I could always cut off Tish’s feet and watch her trying to complete her duties with only bloody stubs to walk on. Or... _Nuke_ Japan? Apparently Martha Jones is there, that’d be good - _killing your little friend.”_ He turned to wink at the Doctor, before exiting, followed closely by the Toclafane which had been hanging about in the corner of the room.

When the doors shut, and the Doctor was left alone, he sat down at the table, finding himself able to relax slightly. Well, as close as you could get to relaxing in this hell hole. The Doctor was already thinking the inevitable... He knew this answer to the Master’s request already.

For Time Lords, you were either born an Omega, a Beta, or an Alpha. It was the closest thing they had to a sex. It was the only thing that stayed consistent throughout all of their genders. Being an Omega, the thought of being on heat soon was scary to him.

Normally, he took suppressants. But now he didn’t have any, and he doubted the Master would give him any. 


	2. Dinner Time

Twenty four hours had almost passed, and the Doctor knew the Master would be joining him to hear his answer. His answer wa _s, yes. I’ll do as you want, as long as you promise to not harm the Jones’s family._

Although this was hardly in the forefront of his mind, (he was too distracted by the Master arriving soon). He noticed he felt rather hungry. It had been a while since he had last eaten. Ever since the Master took control, so three months now. This was fine for a Time Lord, he could last for a lot longer without food. But all the same, it was a nice thought to imagine him sitting in his Tardis with a banana in his hand. He had smelt something rather _delicious_ , a while back. Something called a _Jammie Dodger_ , in Rose’s house, and although he had never tried one before, he would love to have one now. _When I get out of this place, maybe, he thought._

The doors flung open, and the Master entered, with his usual flamboyance. Closely followed by a rather skittish and ill-looking Lucy.

“So, Doctor, what’s your decision?” He asked, loudly, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as he walked over to him.

“I’ll do what you want.” The Doctor replied, stiffly. “On the condition that you don’t harm _anyone_.” 

“ _Anyone_?” He asked, ridiculously, “Now you know I can’t do that.” He said, tutting.

“ _Fine_.” He said, shortly, “Just don’t harm the Jones’s family, _please_.” The Doctor was about to add ‘ _Or Lucy,’_ but he knew that would be one step too far. The Master would never agree to that and if the Doctor didn’t accept this agreement now, it could mean Tish would actually lose her feet, or Japan would be nuked.

“Now, that’s more reasonable! Well done.” The Master said, sitting down to spin his chair around like a hyperactive ten year old.

The Doctor stared at Lucy for a moment, saddened to see her so broken looking. He wished he could do more for her. “ _Excellent_!” He shouted, excitedly, clapping his hands together as he stood up. “Right, _well!_ I’m going to update your privileges, Doctor.” He mumbled, fiddling with a smart watch on his wrist, “Give you a bit of _free-range._ You’re free to have whatever you want, _do_ whatever you want,” He said, “Apart from escape, of course,” He added, with a smirk, “You can _try_. But you’ll soon realise that’s impossible, and _not_ without consequences, either.”

“I don’t need any of your so called _gifts_.” The Doctor said, disgusted.

“Fine by me! If you don’t want to use your privileges, that’s _your_ loss.” He said, walking to the door. Seeing this, Lucy, hurried to catch up with him. “I’ll want you this evening!” He called, “We’ll have dinner,” and then he was gone.

To his shame, the Doctor was slightly tempted to stretch his legs. He had been stuck in the same room for three weeks. It would be nice to leave, explore the entire ship.

But _no_. The Doctor thought, _defiantly_. If the other prisoners saw him being allowed so much freedom, they might think _he_ was on the Master’s side. They might even think he was the Master’s right hand man.

So the Doctor wondered around the empty space, occasionally glancing at the the door. He could walk out - explore. But he wasn’t going to. He paced up and down by the window, staring at the Earth below. There were computers, all biologically locked of course, so he had no way in using them, especially without his sonic screwdriver. As the sun began to set, he wished for some company.

He looked up at one of the security cameras, wondering if the Master had ever checked the footage to see him wondering around aimlessly for so many hours. Did the Master ever watch him? Probably, knowing him.

The cloudy sky surrounding the air ship was dark by the time the Master and him were sitting down for dinner. The Doctor would never admit this, but he actually rather liked the design of this place. At night, the warm golden lights made the place _cozy_ , which was a miracle considering the situation he was in.

The Doctor cut into his piece of steak, put it into his mouth, and chewed quietly for a while, staring out of the windows at the night sky. Down below them was Earth, and somewhere out there, Martha Jones was trudging across the world.

“You seem _distracted.”_ The Master said, quietly.

“There’s not much to think about apart from the world below us really.” He replied, reasonably. He stopped looking out of the window, to glance at the Master, and completely out of nowhere, his hearts sped up dramatically. He looked away again, to divert his attention to his plate, trying to slow down his heart rate. He didn’t know where it had come from.

“You didn’t leave this room today.” The Master said, curiously. The Doctor nodded at him, smally. “ _I thought you would._ You can never sit still.” He remarked. “Well, no matter. I like it when you surprise me.” He said, vaguely, taking another bite of steak.

“Where’s Lucy?” The Doctor asked, suddenly, glancing at Francine Jones who was standing in the corner of the room with her head down. She must rather hate the Doctor at the moment, sitting down and having _dinner_ with this _genocidal_ _maniac_.

“Oh,” He chucked, “Well, uh, she’s not here.”

“ _Yeah_ , I gathered that, _thanks_.” The Doctor said, sarcastically.

“I don’t really care where she is,” He replied, stretching back against his chair, “As long as she keeps away from me when I don’t want her.” He said, smiling, cruelly.

“ _When_ do you want her? _What for?_ ” The Doctor asked, he couldn’t hide the disgust in his voice, and he wasn’t going to.

“She’s fun to play with sometimes, _that’s_ all.” He replied.

“And when you’ve finished playing with your toy, you _throw her away._ ” The Doctor continued.

“That’s right.”

“Maybe, you could be semi-decent and _stop_ hurting her.” The Doctor said, as though it would be a miracle if he did. Lucy Saxon was covered in bruises, which the Master seemed particularly inclined to show off to everyone with a revealing red dress.

“That wasn’t part of our deal, Doctor.” He said, softly.

“I know.” He sighed, “Just _trying_.” He added.

“I don’t want you in here tonight.” The Master said, abruptly. “ _Moping around_ , its really rather _depressing_ watching you on the camera feed, you know.” He said, “ _Do you not have any hope left?_ ” He added, spitefully.

The Doctor shrugged, knowing that he’d agreed to do as the Master asked. There wasn’t any point in arguing.

“Can I see Jack?” The Doctor asked, ignoring him.

“No.” He replied, simply, putting his knife and fork down to finish.

“You’re torturing him, aren’t you?”

“ _Of course_. I get to kill him over and over and _over_ again _. So satisfying.”_ He smirked, “Oi, _you_ ,” He said, loudly, so that the other side of the room could hear him, “Take this away.” He said, coldly. Francine Jones quickly walked up to the table, her head down, to collect the plates and cutlery. Francine glanced up towards the Doctor for a moment, and he saw the surprise in her face as she realised the Doctor was young again. He wanted to say _thanks_ , for collecting the cutlery, but even that seemed horrid - patronising. She was a slave here.

The Master led the Doctor down a corridor, and eventually he stopped at a door. He opened it, and gestured for the Doctor to enter. He did so. It was a large, ornately decorated room, with a king sized bed. It looked extremely appealing to lie down on - he had been sleeping on the floor in that tiny tent for the last few months. Well, _hardly sleeping._ Time Lord’s didn’t need much sleep, but the boredom was enough to make the Doctor want to close his eyes.

“ _You like it?_ ” He asked, with a smile, watching the Doctor’s reaction to the room and that _most comfortable looking bed._

“No.” The Doctor said, quickly, afraid that his relief and happiness of seeing an actual bed had shown slightly on his face.

The Master hummed, watching as the Doctor sat down on the bed, before saying, “ _Goodnight_ ,” and shutting the door.

The Doctor waited a few moments after the door had shut, before taking his jacket, shirt and tie off, and climbing underneath the covers. It was wickedly pleasant. He felt warm and snug, for the first time in months. He touched the covers softly with his finger tips, admiring the feeling of actually having a duvet.

He had also eaten tonight, for the first time in a long while, which made the experience especially nice. It was good feeling, to not be hungry.

 _This must be how the Master feels every night on the Valiant,_ he wondered, absentmindedly, staring up at the ceiling. There was what looked like gold roses and thorns, plastered into the ceiling. It was rather beautiful work actually, in an evil way. This whole place was evil, and yet, as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel _extremely serene_.


	3. Saint Martha Jones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! Thanks for the Kudos so far :) really appreciate it.

A good ten or twelve hours later, he was awoken by the Master’s entrance. He opened his eyes slowly, and sat up, feeling extremely well-rested.

“ _Morning_.” The Master said, silkily, sitting down on the bed with a soft creak.

The Doctor made a non-committal sound of recognition of what he had just said, but didn’t reply, lying back down to rest his head on the pillow again. He looked determinedly up at the ceiling, avoiding any eye contact with the Master.

Now feeling slightly shaky and sick by the Master's presence, he turned onto his side and groaned, his back to the him, wrapping the duvet tightly around his form. He tried to move his head into a more comfortable position on the pillow, to no success.

“Are you just going to sit there watching me all day?” The Doctor asked, irritably.

“Maybe,” He said, casually, “It’s quite relaxing actually.”

The Doctor sighed loudly, trying to shut his eyes. _If he could just sleep through this_. “Would you like something to eat?” The Master asked, abruptly.

The Doctor opened his eyes, the thought of breakfast actually sounding pretty good.

“Yeah,” He said, sitting up, before getting out of bed quite energetically. He picked up his shirt, which he had chucked on the floor last night, and put his arms into its sleeves. He then did the buttons up.

The Master clearly wasn’t hungry, so he just seemed to watch the Doctor as he ate. He looked quite content, his elbow resting on the table, his chin in his hand. The Doctor had asked for banana, which he had received. He took a bite, and sighed when the banana came into contact with his tastebuds. “Bananas are very good.” He murmured.

The Master just smiled, and let out a short breath of laughter in response.

Outside of the Valiant, through the window, the Doctor could see it was light outside. Probably around eight in the morning.

“What do you do _all_ day?” The Doctor asked, taking another chomp into his banana.

“I _revel_ in the destruction of this planet.” He said, satirically.

He could imagine the Master twiddling his thumbs in some sort of throne, smiling to himself as he pictured the planet below. But he still wished the Master had answered him properly.

“ _So accomplished_.” The Doctor responded, cynically, with an obviously false smile.

“Thank you.” He replied, just as falsely. The Doctor found himself extremely close to rolling his eyes. But he managed to resist it, deciding it would only set him off today, meaning all of the other prisoners would have an extremely hard time. The Master was erratic, a small thing like rolling his eyes could certainly mean hell to pay.

The Doctor was especially thinking of Jack, whose gashed and wounded body was currently being draped by chains in the engine room. Worst of all, the Master could put his body through far enough extremes so he just died, over and over and over again. Jack was perfect for torturing. The Doctor couldn’t imagine it getting much worse for him, so he certainly didn’t want it to.

“Martha Jones.” The Master said, suddenly. The Doctor swallowed, finishing his banana, trying his best to stay calm. If the Master was about to antagonise him about the future death of his companion, the Doctor wasn’t sure if he would be able to control his anger. “...Trying to find a way to kill me.” He said, slowly, quietly, almost mumbling as though he were talking to himself. “We sighted her not long ago.” He continued, raising his voice, lightly, almost conversationally.

The Doctor smiled to himself, he couldn’t help it. “What?” The Master snapped, self-consciously.

“Well, a few things made me smile. How specific would you like me to be?”

“ _Very_.” He said, intensely.

“Okay.” He said, crossing his arms, “Well, Martha Jones is not dead. That’s the first thing. Secondly, you seem rather agitated by this. That’s _always_ entertaining. Oh, and thirdly, why are you so worried about her?” He asked, “She’s only human.” He added, with a flick of his wrist.

The Master’s eyes narrowed. “Well,” the Doctor continued, quickly, “You claim to believe humans are so much lesser than yourself. It’s rather funny, really, watching yourself get so worked up about one of them.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I obviously don’t.” The Doctor chuckled, shortly. “I’ve got my own theories of course.”

The Master looked intrigued for a moment, as though he wanted to hear his theories, when he visibly snapped himself out of it, and stood up.

“I’m finding our conversation tiresome.” He said, tersely, “Goodbye.” And with that, he walked out of the room.

The Doctor didn’t see him for days.


	4. Burn it All

As _King of the World_ , the Doctor thought, sarcastically, the Master had kept limited humans alive - to torture them only, of course. He kept human soldiers at his command, alive, because they could mentally hurt other humans more. It was cruel. He was manipulating the people against themselves, and he found this most enjoyable.

To exert and show-off his power, he would have ridiculous and unnecessary meetings with selected soldiers, talking about new and stupid, trivial laws of enforcement to make life a further living hell for the remaining citizens of Earth. The Master would never kill them all, because one can’t suffer when they’re dead.

“Yes, w-well, moving on then, Sir. There are reports of resistance fighters in Japan.” A man, who was probably the General said.

“Of course… The blessed _saint_ Martha.” The Master said, with a hint of unmistakeable bitterness in his voice.

The Doctor had been sat down in a chair, with rather large chains (mainly for show) holding his body in place. The Doctor tried to move slightly, as his neck was starting to hurt, and several of the guards glanced at him when they heard the chains rattle. For some reason the Master clearly wanted the Doctor to listen in on their meetings. But by the chains around him, it was still made very clear to everyone in the room that he was a prisoner.

“Well, yes.’ The General continued, averting his eyes from the Doctor, “What is your response to this?” He asked.

The Master had been pacing up and down the long conference room, until he stopped at this question. The Doctor watched him closely, and felt a clench of anxiety in his stomach when he saw the Master’s small smirk.

“ _Burn_ the islands of Japan.” He said, calmly and clearly.

The ten or so military men surrounding the Master and the Doctor exchanged subtly odd glances with each other.

“That’s madness.” The Doctor said, coldly, noticing the uncertainty in the men and deciding to take advantage of it.

“ _Hush_.” The Master said, quietly and quickly to the Doctor. “Is there a problem?” He asked the men, with a falsely sympathetic smile.

“I didn’t quite follow.” The General piped up, anxiously, “B-burn the islands of Japan?” He repeated.

“Yes.”

“…How so?”

“Burn it all. You just…” he paused, with a wicked smile, “Give the order, _General_.”

The Doctor’s eyes immediately snapped onto the General. He was a middle-aged man with greying hair and lines across his face. He looked tired, very almost defeated. There was still some hesitation to the Master’s request, which made the Doctor interested.

“You have a _choice_ , General.” The Doctor said, quietly. The Doctor knew that his choice was either following orders, or death. The Doctor didn’t care about another death however. There had been so much death already. If the General was just brave enough to make the first rebellion… Perhaps he could save countless lives. Perhaps not. Perhaps his death would mean nothing. But, at least, he would have done something.

The Master flicked the Doctor on the head in response to this, almost comically. “Do you seriously want me to _cut_ Tish’s _feet off?_ ” He whispered, harshly in his ear. The Doctor didn’t reply - just kept his focus on the General. “Alright!” The Master shouted, flinging his arms dramatically, “ _You_. Shoot the Doctor somewhere nonfatal.” He said, to the man standing beside the General. The man hardly hesitated. He took his gun out of his belt pocket, aimed towards the Doctor’s feet, and fired. There was a loud crack, and a shout of pain from the Doctor. “You seem hesitant, General!” The Master said, lightly, with a smile and a laugh, completely ignoring the looks of shock and the Doctor’s now bleeding foot, “Perhaps I should kill you, and then make him General, to _replace_ you,” He said, pointing towards the man who had just shot the Doctor. “What do you think?” The Master asked, cheerfully, with a broad grin.

’Apologies, Mr Saxon.” He shook his head a little, as though he had just been in a dream, “ _Of course_ , I’ll give the order right away, sir.” The General said, quickly. If the Doctor wasn’t in so much pain, he might have sighed in exhaustion. Too late - the plan had failed.

“Excellent!” The Master clapped his hands together. The Master looked extremely happy with the General’s decision, and the Doctor visibly saw the General relax slightly. A meek smile, and a bow of his head, suggested the General now thought he was off the hook. He was wrong.

In a flash, the Master pulled his laser screwdriver out of his pocket, and hit the General. He fell to the floor, with a large thud. The Master kicked his body onto his front, so the entire room of people could clearly see he was now dead. “Ah, that’s better...” he murmured, as he stared at body by his feet. His eyes were wide open in shock from his last split second left, when he had realised he was going to die. Completely still.

The Doctor’s foot was still throbbing, although slightly numbly now. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration at the sight of this dead man. So much death. The pain in the Doctor’s foot was coming back now, sharper and more prominent than before, as any remaining shock wore off. He groaned in agony, then gritted his teeth together to keep himself silent, as if this would help the pain. “What a drama queen!” The Master sighed, gesturing towards the Doctor, clearly relishing in the pain he was experiencing. “Someone’s just _died_ , Doctor! Gosh. Really? Have some _respect_!” He said, dramatically and completely ironically.

The Doctor looked away from his knees, which he had been focusing on for the last few minutes in order to try and ease away the affliction - _distract himself._ The Doctor looked up, to gaze at the men surrounding him. One looked solemn. Another looked strangely blank. A couple of them still had their mouths open slightly, in an attempt to get some extra oxygen to pump their hearts. “ _You_. You’re the General now.” The Master said, with a quick, threatening smile. He had been speaking to the man who had just shot the Doctor in the foot.

“Yes, sir.” He replied, sharply. The Doctor watched the new General. The man was an idiot. The Doctor could see that quite clearly. He could practically smell it on him. He knew the Master would know this as well. Putting an idiot into a state of power was the perfect way to make the rest of the humans suffer. Besides, the Master would enjoy playing with an idiot, for a little while at least.

“Your new General won’t last more than a week.” The Doctor grumbled, knowingly. He was in a Hospital Wing. There was a nurse attending to his foot.

The reason the General wouldn’t last more than a week, was simply because the Master would get bored of him.

The Master laughed at this, clearly amused, as though the Doctor had just made a jest. In a way, he had. It was meant to be satirical. But he didn’t intend the Master to get a laugh from his comment. That was the last thing he wanted.

The Doctor winced slightly, trying his best to keep quiet with his mouth shut, as the nurse touched a particularly sensitive part of his wound. He looked down, to see she had a pair of tweezers...

“Oh, blimey.” He said tensely, bracing himself for a lot of pain. He wasn’t given any pain medication, of course. Nor could he receive any treatment that was better than 21st century Earth’s.

The Doctor gripped his hair tightly and squeezed his eyes shut as the nurse went in with the tweezers. He heard a soft tap, as metal touched metal, and before he had time to brace himself properly, she pulled. With a shout, the nurse had removed the bullet and was placing it into a container.

The wound now stung fervently with the bullet removed. He could see her wiping away some fresh blood.

She then started stitching it up... by hand. So unsophisticated. So painful. How did humans manage? Then he remembered that they would probably be unconscious for this bit. Next, some more antiseptic, and a bandage.

“Thanks.” He muttered, with an awkward smile at the nurse. She just nodded anxiously, glancing towards the Master for... permission?

“You can go.” The Master said, indifferently, with a wave of his hand. The best way to describe how she left the room was a small scuttle.

His body should be able to heal this up quickly, with a little bit of regeneration energy. Especially now he had stitches, and the bullet had been removed. There was a lot of flesh missing from the puncture of the bullet, muscle and skin. It had gone all the way through his foot, only to get lodged, stuck there, by a bone. But he wasn’t human, so it should be fine in only a few days.

Without saying a word, the Master left not long after the nurse. The door shut, and the Doctor’s body relaxed a little. He was still in pain, but at least the wound wasn’t being fiddled with.


	5. Show’s Over

Every morning started the same.

“Citizens, rejoice! Your Lord and Master stands on high.” The Master’s obnoxiously loud voice boomed through the speaker, al over the Valiant. “Now playing track four!” The Doctor prepared himself for ear-splitting music, which was probably part of the torture routine in this place.

The Doctor closed his eyes, as the music came on, as deafening and as demoralising, as ever.

He was back in the tent. Clearly, the Master had not been impressed by his interference in the military meeting the other day. His foot was healing. A lot better than it was. It wasn’t infected, as far as he could tell, and he was able to walk on it for short periods with only a slight limp. It hurt a lot however, and he was given no pain medication for it. He didn’t even have a bed to rest properly with his injury, just some blankets on the floor of his tent.

As the song was quietening down and ending, the Doctor could hear indistinct shouting, not too far away. He had been sitting at the long table, but he stood up, preparing himself for whatever was going to come through the doors in front of him. The voices were getting closer.

The doors opened, and several guards were manhandling the entire Jones’s family into the room, (excluding Martha of course, whom the Master had still not caught).

“What’s going on?” The Doctor called, loudly, as the Master came into view, walking just behind the Jones’s family.

“You’ll see!” He called back, with a broad grin. The Master made a gesture towards the men holding the Jones’s family, and they immediately shoved them up the few steps onto the higher deck. The guards halted the family in a line, facing the large window, and the Master placed himself in front of them so they could all see him. “Thanks for coming.” He said, in a rather sincere and solemn voice. It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth.

“We didn’t have a _choice_.” Francine Jones snapped, through clenched teeth.

He laughed. The fake sincereness vanishing immediately.

“We are all here, today, to witness, what happens to anyone who sides with _Miss_ Martha Jones.”

The Doctor swallowed, knowing what this meant immediately. “There were signs of resistance fighters, in Japan.” He continued, “All of them, spurred on by Martha Jones’s little appearance. Now, you will all _watch_ , as they burn.” The Doctor stood there, watching, not knowing what to do, unable to do anything, probably. “Oh, and that includes you, _Doctor_.” He added coldly, and someone immediately caught hold of him too. He was taken up the five or six steps onto the slightly higher deck with the Jones’s family. “You’re one of them, after all.” He said, shooting him a disapproving and disgusted look.

The Doctor could see out of the window. He recognised Japan below. There was the main, large piece of land, surrounded by many small islands. Today, they were going to burn

“You don’t need to do this.” The Doctor said, softly, grabbing his arm. He needed the Master’s attention. He needed him to just think and stop. “Master, you know I’ll do anything. Just stop. Don’t do this.” He begged.

“And...” He said, softly, “Three... Two...”

“ _No_!” The Doctor shouted, uselessly. Too late.

“ _One_.”

There was an ear-splitting crash. Even so high up in the sky, even on the Valiant, they winced at the impact of the sound. Explosions, fire... _complete obliteration._

“This is what fraternising with the enemy causes.” He said, far too gently. It sent a shiver down the Doctor’s spine. “Death and destruction.”

The Doctor was still clutching onto the Master’s arm. He was holding so tightly, his nails must have been digging into his skin. Surprisingly, the Master didn’t remove the Doctor’s grip. He just stood there... allowing it. It would have been comforting, if they weren’t watching thousands of people dying.

The Doctor let go of his arm, hastily. Without anything to hold onto, his hands were now shaking slightly.

Tish Jones was audibly sobbing. Clive Jones had an arm wrapped around her and there were tears streaming down his face too. Francine Jones looked strangely distant and glassy-eyed as she stared out of the window. _They were all thinking..._

_What if Martha Jones was caught in that explosion? What if she’s dead, right now? They’ll never find her body in that fire. What if Martha Jones just goes missing? Never seen again. Dead._

“Ok, that’s it for today! Show’s over.” The Master said, cheerfully, breaking the silence. The men grabbed the family once again, and they were ushered out of the room. They used to fight, refuse, whenever anyone forced them to do anything. But not now.

The doors slammed shut, and suddenly, the Doctor had a powerful urge to throttle the Master to the ground. There weren’t any soldiers in the room. It was just them.

“You _killed_ them.” The Doctor said, strangely calmly. On the inside, he was raging so hot and so very, very sorrowful.

“It’s what I do best.” He said, and the Doctor noticed a strange quietness in his voice. The desire to throttle him slowly died down at this.

He no longer wanted to hurt the Master, he had controlled his anger. He now felt oddly sorry for him.

He wanted to help the Master. Help him become... good. But the Doctor didn’t see that happening any time soon.

“I think you should leave.” The Doctor said, coldly. It stunned him slightly, when the Master actually did as he requested.


	6. 2718

The Doctor woke up feeling _strange_. Normally, he hardly needed any sleep, as a Time Lord. But last night, he had felt desperately tired and _yet_ , unable to sleep properly. His sleep had been broken by nightmares he couldn’t remember, and a restlessness, where he couldn’t stay still.

An image of the Islands of Japan flashed into his mind, and he cringed at the thought. All of those people... dying. _Dead_ now. And yet, despite all of that death, the Doctor found himself worrying about something else _more_. That something, was the Master.

If anyone could read the Doctor’s thoughts, they’d probably think he was wicked, worrying about a mass murderer. But the Doctor himself was by no means innocent. He knew what it was to commit genocide. The Master hadn’t even done that, yet. There were still humans left alive, after all.

There weren’t any guards at the doors, and still feeling rather fidgety and on edge, it was tempting to go and explore.

Ignoring all better judgement, ignoring the fact he had told himself _not_ to explore, to make it clear he was on the prisoner’s side, he walked towards the doors. They opened at proximity and the Doctor bit his lower lip slightly, wondering what to do next.

_Screw it._

He took his chance, walking straight through the doors and out of that hell hole he had been stuck in for weeks.

Maybe he could find Jack Harkness. That’s what he told himself, anyway. But even he wasn’t entirely sure of his motives. Maybe he was hoping to see the Master.

He knew Jack was in the engine room, but he didn’t exactly know where that was. The Doctor spotted a guard, and before shrugging to himself, he walked up to him and spoke, “Do you know where the prisoner Captain Jack Harkness is being held?” He asked.

“Engine room. Down the corridor,” He said, pointing, “Down the flight of stairs, follow the corridor on your right, next left, then the first door you see.”

“Right.” The Doctor replied. That had been way too easy. “Thanks.”

So, the Doctor went down the corridor, down the flight of stairs, followed the corridor on his right, turned left, and he saw the door.

He made to open it, but it was locked. Not an ordinary lock that _just anyone_ could pick either. There was a code for the door. The code would be a four digit number, probably. With ten numbers to choose from in any order. That meant there were _one million, four hundred and eighty five thousand, and seventy six_ different options.

He doubted the computer would let him input over a million different options. Security would be called way before that.

The number ‘ _E_ ’ popped into his mind immediately. The number that represents growth and time in Mathematics. It would be fitting, considering the Paradox machine on the Valiant. The first five digits of E are 2.7182. So, the closest four digits would be 2.718. Alright, _2718_ it is.

He typed it in, and to no surprise really, the code was incorrect. The door did not budge. For all he knew, security had been called already.

He gazed at the small pad of digits to choose from. There were so many numbers in his head - so many he could choose from. His thoughts were interrupted abruptly when he felt two hands push his shoulders roughly against the wall.

“I told you, Doctor. You’re not _allowed_ to see Jack Harkness.” The Master hissed, and then laughed. “2718, though...” He sighed, then tutted, “I gotta say, I’m disappointed.” He paused suddenly, to watch the Doctor more closely. His head tilted slightly, as though he could get a better view of him this way. “You’re _different_.” He said, curiously, with a small sniff.

The Doctor felt his chest tense at the close contact. “Oh. _I see_ ,” He said quietly, with a small smirk. To the Doctor’s relief, he then released him.

Although he was no longer pinned against a wall, which was a good, he was becoming extremely aware of the very small distance between them. The Doctor desperately wanted to take a step back, to relieve some of his own tension. But there was no space to step back into, only a wall. Of course, the Master didn’t back away, clearly sensing the Doctor’s tension and wanting to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

“Would you mind-“ The Doctor stopped himself, as he saw the Master’s smile. He realised it would be futile to try and ask him to step away. Just as he had seen the Master’s smile, he had noticed _those lips and -_

He halted that trail of thought abruptly, it was best not to think about it. He definitely didn’t want... _that_. It was just his own chemicals, messing with his head. Not with him. Not with a genocidal maniac. Not after everything he had done. The Master needed to redeem himself, and then, _maybe_ -

“ _Hmm_ ,” The Master purred. “You’re thinking too _much_.” He said, reaching out, to maybe touch his face -

“ _Don’t_.” He said, sharply, flicking his hand away.

“Ooh, touch _-eey!_ ” The Master said, ironically. “But, fine by _me_.” He said with a shrug, backing away with his hands up. “You’re not seeing Jack though. I’ll have to block this area off...” He said, absentmindedly, looking around, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll deadlock seal the door, _just for today.” He said, with a short smile, and it looked as though he were about to leave the Doctor just standing there -_

“Wait.” The Doctor said, quickly, “What did you mean - what you said before, ‘ _It’s what I do best,_ ’?” He asked.

“I think you can understand what those words mean.” He said slowly, with a patronising look of confusion over his shoulder. As the Master left, the Doctor still didn’t find himself convinced. When the Master had said those words, ‘ _It’s what I do best,_ ’ the Doctor had sensed something. Was it _repentance_? Surely not. But it was _something_. Some other emotion that wasn’t just hate and destruction. That was a _start_. Perhaps he could work on that, _he thought_.

Now, well... the Doctor really didn’t know what to do. That was an unusual feeling. It was probably the consequence of being a prisoner for so long. Usually, he had the entire universe to explore. That could keep him occupied - distracted from the inevitable boredom of being an immortal.

He was so close to Jack. He was only on the other side of that door.

For the first time in a while, the Doctor felt a rather swift decline in his mood. He felt desolate, standing alone in this hallway. He was leaning against the door he had failed in opening, before eventually slumping down onto the floor. His chin rested on his knees, he was crouched up, and so very, very small. Like a child.

“Jack?” He asked, tentatively, “In case you can hear me, I just wanted to say-“ He paused. What could he say? “I don’t know.” He mumbled. “I’m sorry?”

He was sorry for so many things. It seemed like the most appropriate response.

The Doctor couldn’t pretend he hadn’t thought about a new Gallifrey in the heavens. The Master and him had both lost Gallifrey. _Oh_ , how wonderful it would be to have it back. But they couldn’t take Earth for it, no, what the Master was doing was wrong. _However_ , behind his lunacy, the Doctor could understand everything about him. All of the decisions he made, every terrible thing he did. He could sympathise.

It was him, who had destroyed Gallifrey - _not_ the Master. The Master was trying to bring Gallifrey back. At the same time as destroying the rest of the universe, of course. But despite his threats, the Master hadn’t actually destroyed the rest of the universe. He intended to, yes, but he didn’t have the fire power yet. If he could just reach him. Just, _help him_. Make him understand. It would be a miracle if the Doctor could do it before the countdown, before Martha Jones’s return. But what else did he have to do, stuck on this ship?

The Doctor stood up, and straightened his tie, “ _Allons-y_.”


	7. Kill You or Kiss You

“‘Master.” The Doctor said, more softly than he had intended, standing up.

He had been sitting in the conference room for some time now. It seemed to be the place he spent most his time these days on the Valiant. Not because he was able to engage in any conferences, nor would he want to. It was simply because his tent had been placed there. Also, it had a large window. It was nice to be able to see the sky.

“Doctor!” He called, enthusiastically, walking over to him. “I brought you something to eat.” He said, sitting down at the long table besides him. A banana. _Of course._ The Doctor realised he had been standing up for a while, in a bit of a dream. He sat back down, and took the banana gently, to begin peeling the skin off.

“Still have bananas then?” The Doctor asked, “Who’s growing them?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Y’ know, I’ve never found any other fruit that tastes like a banana.” He said, conversationally, “Anywhere... on any planet. So, if you turn this planet into a wasteland, you might make the banana extinct. You would be... _The Destroyer of The Bananas._ ”

“I like it.” He said, nodding, fairly. “Although I prefer the Master.”

“Psychiatrist’s field day!” He said, “The banana title is better.”

“You think?”

“Suits you. _Bananas_! Just like you.” He said, taking a bite into his own banana.

“Is that a bad thing?” The Master grinned.

“ _No_.” He said, quickly, “Maybe, actually.... Hmh.” He added, more thoughtfully, “I mean, you have killed a lot of people.”

“True.” The Master said, nodding.

“Why are you looking at me like _tha_ t?”

“Like _what_?” He asked, innocently, still grinning.

“You’re just... smiling. A _lot._ ” The Doctor said, curiously, side-eyeing him.

“I smile. A _lot_. Just like you said. _I’m bananas_. It’s what I do.”

“I suppose so...” There were a few moments of silence. The Doctor’s banana had been forgotten. He wasn’t even aware he was still holding it, until just now. He put it down on the table, hastily.

And then, to the Doctor’s utter surprise, the Master leaned forward and kissed him, gently. Just a small peck on the lips, before leaning back again. The Doctor could of stopped him, but, his lips had been... soft.

“Why did you-“ He murmured, staring at the Master. He looked incredibly smug. He was clearly enjoying the look of shock on then Doctor’s face.

“For fun.” He replied, with a shrug.

“Right.” For some reason, the Doctor struggled to not giggle at that point. Giggle? Why was he giggling? He didn’t giggle! He suddenly felt so... happy. “So, do you _kiss_ people now? You know, instead of killing them.”

“ _Sometimes_.” He said, smirking.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, when the air inside the room suddenly changed. Instead of the gentle warm touch of earlier, it fizzled. Electric charges prickled around him.

“Do you-“ The Doctor swallowed, thickly, “Do you not think about... what you’ve done.” He said, slowly.

“I do.” He said, tilting his head slightly.

“And do you not... regret any of it?”

“Some of it.” He said, casually, “Like, not being able to kill _you_. Things would be... so much simpler, if you didn’t exist.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” The Doctor replied, breathily. He felt the same way about him. The Doctor shut his eyes for a moment - not wanting to have to look into his eyes, which seemed so very, very deep. Like he could drown in them.

He opened his eyes, and stood up, abruptly. He felt restive all of a sudden. He thought it would be nice to be able to pace, move about, do something.

The Master copied him, also standing up. “I have something to show you, if you’ll let me.” He said, taking his hand.

“What is it?”

He led him over to a laptop, typed in something quickly, and the Doctor watched the footage, which was apparently from a few days ago. It was Martha Jones. She was only visible for a few seconds, before she disappeared behind a brick wall. But despite the graininess of the picture, it was most certainly her. She had escaped Japan.

“She’s still alive.” The Doctor said, quietly.

“Unfortunately for me, _yes_.” He replied, with a slight smile, closing the laptop lid. “ _But_ , it’s some good news for you.”

“Why did you show it to me then?” The Doctor asked.

“To level out the playing fields a bit.”

“Why would you want that?”

“It’s no fun otherwise.” He replied, shortly. But for some reason, the Doctor didn’t find himself completely convinced. He could often tell when the Master was lying.

“Well, thanks anyway. I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” He said, impassively. Then silence. Until, “You know, you don’t have to stay the night in the tent.” He said, glancing at it, “You could... stay with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooh!! shits really gonna go down next chapter!!


	8. Kiss You

“It would be nice to not have to sleep on the floor.” The Doctor said, looking at his feet.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Come on then.” He said, strangely sweetly, as though he were calling a cat and clicking his tongue to get the cat to come to him.

The Doctor followed him out of the room, up some stairs, and down a few corridors he hadn’t seen before.

He reached a door which he opened, and entered. The first thing the Doctor saw was Lucy Saxon. She was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, staring at her knees with her legs crossed. She looked up, and with one gesture from the Master, she left the room.

The Doctor wanted to ask about Lucy, but suddenly found the situation too uncomfortable to want to say anything.

He heard the door click shut behind them, and the Doctor’s hearts suddenly started working far too quickly.

The Doctor had been gazing anywhere in the room apart from the Master.

“Are you alright?” The Master said, wincing slightly. The Doctor glanced at him to see that he was in bed already. He was wearing a pair of dark blue, silk pyjamas.

The Doctor wanted this - didn’t he? He wanted some company. He had spent months on the Valiant alone every day, and when the Master was actually showing kindness... It was too compelling to resist. It was like they were back in the Academy.

“ _Yes_.” The Doctor replied, quickly.

Of course, all of this was probably just an elaborate scheme to hurt him even more. But for the moment, he didn’t care too much. He wanted this moment.

He took off his shirt, and climbed into bed to stare at the intricately detailed ceiling.

He heard the Master breath in and out next to him. Feeling slightly shaky, the Doctor turned onto his side so he was facing away from him, with the pretence of punching his pillow into a more comfortable position. He felt the Master move as well.

He gasped quietly, as he felt the Master’s form rest very close against his. He had put an arm around the Doctor’s waist and he could feel the Master’s slightly unsteady breathing on his neck.

He then began to place kisses on the back and side of the Doctor’s neck.

“Does this feel _good_?” He murmured, softly, in between kisses.

At first, the Doctor felt anxious. But soon, he relaxed into it, and that adrenaline was replaced with _something else._ Something he hardly ever felt.

“ _Yes_.” He replied, shakily.

The Master moved up to kiss his jawline, and instantaneously, the Doctor turned onto his other side to face him, so their lips could meet.

His hands ran down the Doctor’s chest, nails scraping a little painfully across the delicate skin.

The Doctor kissed him hungrily. First the Master’s lips, then his neck, and moving down to the small amount of chest exposed. He had been wanting this more than he realised. It was him who was dominating the situation more now.

“ _Wait_.” The Master stopped him, by putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away slightly. “Why are you-“ He paused, putting on his best, big, teary eyes. “I’m not sure if I want this anymore.”

“ _What_?” The Doctor snapped, more harshly than he had intended. But he suddenly felt so... _angry_.

“You’re pressurising me.” He said, as weakly as possible, his lip trembling slightly. It was comical, really, and that was the moment the Doctor realised. His acting was far too over the top, on purpose. And the Doctor knew he could be a good actor if he wanted. He was playing a game.

“How can I help you?” The Doctor said, softly and with sincerity, playing along.

“Just... go easy on me. Okay?” He replied, gingerly.

“ _I can do that._ ” The Doctor said, nodding tenderly, and then slowly, very slowly, he began to pepper kisses over his neck and chest, delicately. As though he were made of glass. Like he could break any moment. The Master was damaged, and the Doctor could help him - _fix him_. This thought became very real to the Doctor, beyond the pretending.

And the Master just lay there, serenely, as the Doctor’s lips and attention were completely on him. But the Doctor didn’t mind. In fact, he wanted it. Both of them wanted it. They both wanted the Doctor to try and fix him. Try and... ultimately, in the end, _fail_. But the Doctor was never going to give up, no matter how hopeless it was.

The Doctor woke up in alarm - _dread_. He remembered falling asleep holding the Master in his arms. And yet, when he awoke, he was alone. _How predictable._

The Doctor sighed, quietly, and turned onto his back to look up at the ceiling.

He cringed at the thought of anyone finding out what had happened between them last night. The Jones’s family, for instance. Martha Jones. _What would they think of him?_ Well, he knew the answer to that. They would think he was a monster. Their own daughter was being hunted down by this man. They were kept as slaves, tortured _endlessly_.

But, no matter how much it tore him apart, the Doctor had to forgive the Master. They were the only two left. _There was no one else._


	9. She’s Jealous

The Doctor stepped out of bed and got dressed. He sighed as he looked at his reflection in the large mirror on the wall. He cringed at the image he imagined of himself from last night. He felt ashamed. Embarrassed. He had allowed himself to become more vulnerable to the Master’s affliction than ever before.

Closing the door with more force than needed, he quickly made his way down the corridors, in any direction away from the bedroom. He couldn’t stand being in that room any longer, left alone with only his own reflection.

He reached the conference room, and opened the door. The Master was there, alone, looking out of the window. The Doctor had opened the doors silently, and was now thinking about closing them and leaving him. The Doctor stood there, unsure, hesitant, for only a few seconds until -

“Feel free to continue staring at me Doctor.”

At that, the Doctor entered, and closed the doors behind him.

The Doctor walked over to him, quietly, and stood beside him. He glanced over at the Master, awkwardly, but the Master took no notice of this. He was just gazing out of the window.

“What do you think?” The Doctor asked.

“Of _what_?” He answered, slightly snappishly.

“Of everything below. The Earth.”

“Fine, I suppose.” He shrugged, “Looks a lot better than it used to anyway. Not enough statues of me yet, though. I’m thinking of carving something into Mount Rushmore... What do you think?”

“You can do whatever you want. There’s no one to stop you.” He said, calmly, dispassionately.

“ _Yeah_ , that’s right.” He said, smirking, and for the first time in this conversation, the Master actually looked at the Doctor. He was staring at the Doctor, hungrily. They held eye contact for far too long - long enough to make any normal human feel uncomfortable.

And then, the Master seized him. Pushing him up against the window, he began to kiss the Doctor fervently, completely frenzied.

“Oh, _Doctor_ ,” he said, breathlessly, his lips skimming across the Doctor’s neck. “You _like_ this, don’t you?” He whispered. “You don’t need to answer.” He said, putting a single finger onto the Doctor’s lips, “I _know_ you do. I can sense it all over you. Just like _last night_.” The Doctor quietly whined, in that instance, as the Master’s words hit him hard as a tsunami.

He placed kisses all the way down the Doctor’s neck, before latching onto his collarbone, “Show me how much you like this. Show me how much you like _my_ attention on _you_.” He paused his kissing after a moment, and looked up at the Doctor expectantly.

“Why?” The Doctor breathed, shakily.

“Because, if you do, I _might_ give you some more...” He teased, silkily. The Master kissed his lips again, and in response the Doctor sighed contentedly, and deepened the kiss. “There we go.” The Master said, smiling against the Doctor’s mouth. _“Good boy.”_

The Master gripped him more strongly, once again ramming him harder into the window.

The Doctor vaguely heard the doors opening, but was far too distracted by the Master undoing the buttons of his shirt to notice properly. “I want to show _everyone_ how tame you are now.” He purred, running his hands across the Doctor’s newly visible skin.

“I don’t-“ The Doctor began,

“Shhh,” he hushed, kissing his lips again to shut him up. “Let’s show Martha Jones where her precious Doctor’s heart truly belongs. At my _mercy_ , of course.”

The Doctor’s eyes moved to the figure who was now standing by the door. It was Lucy. He now felt incredibly used and uncomfortable. Exploited. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, in this pitiful state.

“Wait-“

The Master shushed him again, and continued sucking onto his skin, like a starving parasite.

“Just stop!” The Doctor said, attempting, rather pathetically, to push the Master’s chest away from his, which were now firmly pressed together. But the Master ignored his squirms completely, and continued touching him unrelentingly.

Finally, the Doctor’s weak limbs subsided and he actually managed to put some force into pushing the Master away from him. The Master stumbled a few steps backwards, laughing hysterically, casting looks between Lucy and the Doctor, like the two of them were a comedy act.

Lucy looked oddly blank, staring at the Doctor, like she didn’t dare look the Master in the eyes. Lucy seemed vacant, like she had separated her soul from her body in some form of protection.

Surely, Lucy would have preferred the Master abusing the Doctor and not _her_? After all, she had bruises all over her. Physically and emotionally - she looked extremely damaged.

The Doctor was starting to feel some bruises form on himself from their recent intimacy.

_Surely, the Master’s attention on the Doctor was far less harmful for Lucy than having his attention on her? To be ignored by him was surely better?_

“She’s _jealous_.” The Master said, sourly, smirking at the Doctor as though they were sharing an inside joke. The Doctor didn’t find it at all funny - he found it disturbing.

“I-“ the Doctor paused, “Just... leave Lucy alone.” He managed to say, thickly, his mind still a little clouded by his recent coition. He knew that he wanted to protect Lucy as best he could. He stayed focused on that.

“Oh, I fully intend to do that.” He replied, grinning. “ _Don’t worry_ ,” he said, moving a little closer to stroke his lower lip, “You’ll still have me all to yourself.” He hopped down the stairs, “Sit and watch, Lucy!” He said, cheerfully, getting a chair out for her. She sat, automatically, clearly used to following his commands. “Come on! Over here, Doctor. _Now_!” He called, irritably.

“No,” The Doctor replied, coldly, folding his arms, “Absolutely not. I’m not doing that!” He said, indignantly.

“Come here.” He repeated, more sharply.

“ _No_.” The Doctor said, his teeth now gritted.

The Master seemed to be frozen for a few moments. This was either to scare everyone around him, or to contemplate his next course of action. Or probably both.

“How very disappointing.” He said, viciously, a hand on his hip, eyeing the Doctor coldly. “Your error.” He shrugged, “You _will_ learn that soon, and reconsider. Lucy, come.” He snapped his fingers, striding to the door with Lucy at his heels.

The metal doors shut close behind them, and with a click, he could tell he had been locked in.

His back still leaning on the window, the Doctor sighed and sank to the ground. He had made the right decision - saying no.

But a primitive part of his brain was nagging at him. _Cursing_ at him - telling him he would have been much better off just doing as the Master had asked. He would have a bed to sleep in, the comfort of his own species and some sort of stability in this life of hell onboard the Valiant.

Time Lords weren’t supposed to have any of their primitive selves left, but they all did. All species in the universe did. It was the way for survival. No matter how clever or advanced they had become. Time Lords could create all sorts of laws and boundaries to suppress that part of themselves, but it could never be removed.


	10. My Human Plaything

The Master just sat there, on the bed the Doctor and him had slept in only hours ago, just thinking.

Or maybe he was trying not to think actually. Perhaps he was just trying to block out the incessant drums in his mind.

He shuddered slightly, taken by surprise when he finally noticed the feeling of Lucy’s fingers stroking through his hair.

“Get off me.” He said, indignantly, flicking her hand away as though it were an annoying insect.

_Why was she still showing him affection anyway? Humans, always so simple and good, he thought, bitterly. The pudding-brains. Greatest monsters of them all._

That must be why the Doctor likes them _so much_. They were the _antithesis_ of the Master. They were _nothing_ like _him_. The thought of this made him smash his fist violently onto the bedside table. He felt Lucy jump slightly, and there was now a distant, dull, throbbing pain in his hand.

Scaring Lucy gave him a bit of satisfaction, at least. But not nearly enough. He _needed_ the _Doctor_. Then, maybe, finally, he would feel fulfilled.

 _Lucy still cared about him..._ He smirked at this thought. “ _Lucy_.” He said, softly, reaching out to tuck a piece of her golden blonde hair behind her ear. She winced, not expecting him to be so gentle. She was trembling slightly. “Oh, Lucy... I’m sorry for losing my temper.” He said, in a sickly sweet voice which screamed _mockery_ , “You humans are just so... irritating. So... _easy_. You understand that I _can’t help_ being angry at you, yes?”

“Yes.” She whispered, shutting her eyes.

“You fail at pleasing me.” He said, calmly, and just as quietly, but dangerously. He didn’t need to shout to scare a person.

“I’m s-sorry.” She said, her voice cracking and shaking as though she were about to burst into tears.

“Good.” He replied, shortly.

“Harry...” She said, softly, coaxingly, “Tell me what’s wrong... Tell me how to make things right.” She said, shifting closer. He used to kiss her passionately and lovingly, when he had wanted to charm her. He played the part well - Harold Saxon’s dear wife. Now there was no need for pretence. Frequently, he had violent fits of rage which left her and anyone else around him, covered with bruises and cuts.

“You amuse me from time to time. But otherwise, you’re pretty much useless, and I don’t have a problem with that.” He said, coldly, “Just continue... _breathing_ , I _suppose_. Watching and listening, and reacting. You’re my human plaything, and you do a _splendid_ job of that.”

This was the first time those words had actually left the Master’s mouth for Lucy to hear. Despite his serious demeanour, the Master was cackling inside. “So, well done!” He finished, kissing her on the cheek as tears silently slid down her face. He heard her gasp, clearly trying to contain a sob. He sighed and rolled his eyes, “Don’t cry.” He said, irritably, wrapping an arm around Lucy and hugging her close to his chest.

Every bit of affection he showed towards her was just a game. It wasn’t about comforting her. In fact, the affection just manipulated and hurt her further. He didn’t care about her. He just found her amusing, like every other ape on the planet.

She had stopped crying, clearly holding her breathe to do so. Being so close to him made her feel uncomfortable, and she was afraid of how he would react if she didn’t stop crying - didn’t follow his order. “Try not to die, or something. I did tell you to continue breathing, you know.” In response, she swallowed, and managed to inhale and exhale, slowly and shakily, as quietly as she could. “Well done.” He said, patronisingly.

After many hours, the empty, lonely room was starting to effect the Doctor. He had nothing to do, nothing to busy himself with. Normally, doing things helped distract himself from the distressing and cruel thoughts he had a tendency to ruminate on.

In this time alone, he found himself doing the most incredibly, mundane things. Like fidgeting with his hands and watching his fingers move according to the signal his brain sent to them... Or gazing out of the window to watch the clouds passing by... Counting the seconds, minutes and hours...

Eventually, the night arrived, and the Doctor had curled up into the blankets of his tent. He had trouble sleeping for a long while, his had thoughts wandered... Captain Jack, Martha, and everyone else he knew out there on the wrecked planet Earth. Feeling particularly lonely, in this moment of weakness, he had found himself searching for the Master, telepathically. _Contact, contact, contact._ But there was no response.

The Master was blocking him off - to punish him. To manipulate him into doing his wishes. The Doctor knew he shouldn’t be manipulated, and yet, it became more and more tempting to just _give into_ the manipulation. It would be easy, _blissful_.

He wouldn’t normally think like this, it was out of his character. But he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind at the moment. Which was understandable, considering everything that had happened, and was happening.

The Master couldn’t contain a grin when he felt the unmistakeable _‘contact’_ pushing against his mental barriers. He had been expecting it.

“ _Hm_ , our Doctor downstairs is getting agitated.” He said, gleefully, stretching out onto his king-sized bed. Lucy lay beside him, in a satin negligee. “I like this.” He said, giving the fabric a little tug. “I wonder who’s going to manufacture _lingerie_ when all the humans are dead,” He said, absentmindedly, with a yawn, “Just like the banana problem I suppose. Who’s going to grow bananas? Then again, I don’t like them, only the Doctor does. So, _actually_ , thinking it through, I should probably just make them extinct.”

 _Contact_. He felt the Doctor again, and in response the Master laughed breathily. He found it be a rather warm feeling... the Doctor’s gentle way in seeking out his mind.

“ _Tomorrow_ , Doctor... Just wait.” The Master teased, playfully, aloud, as though he could hear him. “ _Tomorrow_ , I will give you whatever you _want_.”


	11. Kind of Sexy

* * *

The Master’s eyes sprung wide open when he awoke, a large grin plastering his face. He had hardly slept. At one point in the middle of the night, he had been extremely tempted to just give in, and to rush downstairs to see the Doctor.

Nothing had changed between them. The kisses they had shared still lingered on the skin. Only the Doctor’s morals had gotten in the way, and from the desperate attempts to reach out - _contact, contact, contact._ It seemed even that wasn’t a problem anymore.

He glanced to the side of him. Lucy was still asleep, or at least pretending to be in order to avoid him. Probably the latter. The Master giggled at this.

He could wake her up - force her to confront him. Force her to look him in the eyes without crying, without breaking down in front of him. But oddly, his cheerful mood decided against that act of cruelty. That was most unlike him, he thought, warily. Maybe he was going soft.

He hopped out of bed, pulled his dressing gown together, and with a loud slam of the door, he had departed.

Reaching the conference room where the Doctor slept, the Master paused at the doors abruptly. One of the heavily armed men guarding the doors glanced at him, then hastily looked away. He clearly didn’t want to draw any of the Master’s attention to himself, for his own safety. A sensible decision.

He typed in the combination code, and the metal doors slid open.

He entered, and the doors shut firmly behind him. There was no movement in the room, no noise. Perhaps the Doctor had finally fallen asleep.

He quietly walked over to the tent, and bent down to the open flap to see him curled up in there.

The Master sat, cross legged, just outside of the tent, and watched as the Doctor’s body slowly rose and fell in sync with his breathing.

The Master hummed, quietly, gazing at the Doctor. He rather wanted to wake him up, but all the same, he had never seen the Doctor looking so... peaceful. Not since they were children anyway. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. But it was fascinating all the same.

The Doctor began to stir shortly. His legs moved into a different position, until he opened his eyes and saw who was sitting there in front of him...

“Master?” The Doctor murmured, sitting up. He ran his fingers through his hair briefly and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“Doctor.” He replied, before standing up and moving a few steps backward to give the Doctor room to crawl out of the tent and stand himself.

“You came.” The Doctor said, more quietly and softly than he had intended. His last thoughts falling asleep were worries about the Master not speaking to him for a while. Time passed extremely slowly, on board the Valiant.

He knew it was wrong. But the Doctor found himself feeling so glad for his company. He knew he should be angry and resentful towards the person keeping him imprisoned, and yet... He couldn’t help it. He had wanted the Master so badly last night, and finally he had him. He was the only person he got to speak to these days.

The Doctor’s eyes danced across the Master’s face before traitorously landing on his lips. Realising he was staring, he quickly looked away.

“Still on heat then.” The Master said, with a smirk. The Master could smell it - sense it all over him. The stench of Omega. The Doctor had been like this for a few days now.

“Yes.” The Doctor replied, stiffly, his teeth gritted and looking at his own feet in annoyance and embarrassment.

It would be difficult for either of them to resist each other like this. But the Master had no intention to restrain himself. When had he ever?

He slowly raked his eyes all the way down the Doctor’s body, obviously trying to goad him into doing something he’d regret.

“Oh, no.” The Doctor groaned, quickly turning away from him, his face buried in his hands. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I think we both know what’s-“ He began, rather smugly.

“Yes - thank you.” The Doctor snapped, irritably.

“Oh, come on, Doctor! You know what you want.” He teased, still smirking uncontrollably, “Just _take_ it.” He said, more quietly, mischievously, a velvety whisper, like a secret between only the two of them.

“You want it too?” The Doctor replied, unsurely.

The Master stepped closer, still smiling. Their eye contact continued resolutely. He could hear the Doctor’s breathing. Slightly heavier and uneven than usual. “Martha Jones doesn’t have to know... for now. No one does.”

The Doctor bit his lip in thought, and the Master’s eyes automatically darted there. His eyes remained there, completely undisturbed and unashamed, staring hungrily. The Doctor closed his eyes, affected a lot more by that image than he would admit.

“You... blocked me off - last night. When I needed you - you left me alone.” He said, slowly, tensely.

“ _Yes_.” The Master replied, with a soft hiss, “But now I’m offering you something _else_.”

“Okay.” He quietly decided, nodding, as he took half a step closer. His breathing became much shallower. They were practically touching now.

The Master reached out, delicately touching the Doctor’s cheek with his fingertips.

Slowly, the Doctor leaned in, slipping his arms around the the Master’s torso. The Doctor rested his head on the Master’s shoulder. In turn, the Master also wrapped his arms around the Doctor, locking them both into a tight embrace.

“I just... want to stay like this - for a bit.” The Doctor said, faintly.

The uncomfortable, throbbing sensation in the Doctor’s stomach was, to some extent, soothed by their touch.

Abruptly, the Doctor felt the Master’s mouth on the back of his neck. He gasped quietly in response, the throbbing sense in his stomach now surely turning into a bonfire. The Master nipped him softly, and the Doctor sighed an, “ _Oh_ ,” before running his hands across the Master’s chest, eyes gleaming, staring up at him in awe.

_Beautiful..._

Everything went very slowly, as they savoured each other. Sat up on the table now, the Doctor climbed onto his lap and straddled him there. The Master’s eyes fluttered slightly as he took in the sight.

“Mmm.” The Master hummed.

“What?”

“Uh - you look very pretty like this.”

“Like what?”

“Taking what you want.” The Master said, with a shrug. “It’s kind of sexy.” He added.

“ _Sexy_?” The Doctor asked, incredulously, an eyebrow raised, now smirking.

“ _Yeah_.” He said, breathlessly.

“ _I know_.” The Doctor said smugly, wrapping his arms comfortably around the Master’s neck to draw himself closer.

The Doctor pecked him on the cheek, before leaning further into his touch, so they were holding each other, chest to chest. The Doctor shut his eyes and exhaled deeply as he felt soft lips on his neck once more.

“You smell like home.” The Doctor whispered, unable to hide the pain in his voice.

“That’s just the chemicals messing with your brain.” The Master said lightly, with a roll of his eyes, then continuing to kiss him. He was gently suckling and nibbling the skin.

“It’s nice though.” The Doctor replied dreamily, shifting a little closer on his lap. Their lips met magnetically and either one of them deepened the kiss. The Doctor’s hands were now running through the Master’s hair frantically of their own accord, ruffling it up at the back.

With more force than needed, the Doctor pushed the Master flat onto his back with a loud and painful thump, so he was lying on the table, laughing cruelly, “ _Wow_ , you really are desperate!”

“Oh, _shut up._ ” The Doctor scoffed, silencing him with another kiss. He could sense the Doctor’s agitation. He wasn’t at all happy anymore. “ _You want this_ as much as I do.” He added scornfully, in a quick break, before connecting their lips again.

“You know that _anyone_ could walk in on us at _any_ moment, right?” The Master asked, quizzically, clearly finding the situation amusing.

The Doctor didn’t seem to hear at all. In fact, his ardour seemed to increase dramatically. He had scattered kisses all the way down his neck, and was now pressing his mouth to all the available skin on his upper chest. Realising he couldn’t go any further down his chest, he began to unbutton the Master’s shirt.

The Master wanted to be in control... and, panicking slightly, he felt that control slipping. The Doctor could be a much better Master than he was when he wanted to be.

“ _I don’t like this._ ” The Master hissed, pushing the Doctor away and getting off the table and onto his feet.

The Doctor took quick steps backward as the Master strode towards him. The Doctor hit the glass wall, having no where else to go, and the Master slammed his body into his. The Doctor made to grasp at him when the Master pinned his wrists to the wall beside his head. “ _No_ , no, no,” the Master tutted gently, grinning wildly, “You don’t touch me until I say so.”

The Doctor wasn’t sure which one of them was stronger. It was most likely himself. Perhaps he could force his wrists out of his grip, but he ended up not trying - relaxing into his touch.

_Alpha likes me, Alpha wants me..._

His muscles were feeling weak with glee. He didn’t want to fight back. He liked everything just the way it was. He didn’t think he had ever felt that before. But it was blissful.

The Doctor came back to his senses later, slumped against the same glass window, the Master resting in his arms.

The Doctor knew that as soon as this was over, whenever that happened, the Master would go back to his evil, cruel self. But for now, they were both just basking in the warm, delightful feelings of each other.

The Master stirred from his sleep, or fantasy, or whatever it was, and lifted his head to give the Doctor a small and mischievous smile. None of this was real. Things between them could never be like this. Despite himself, the Doctor smiled back, with a huff of ridiculous, contained laughter.

The Master seemed satisfied with this, and nestled his face into his neck once more. He scraped his teeth across the Doctor’s skin, before imprudently biting down on it, hard enough to draw blood. The Doctor winced and tried to move away with a jerk, prior to the Master seemingly trying to soothe him, by kissing and sucking on the spot he had bitten.

The Doctor felt something trickling down his neck, and a small shiver and a gasp escaped him. “ _Shh_ ,” the Master hushed, and strangely, it did seem to calm the Doctor.

_Alpha will look after me..._

He knew that wasn’t the correct and reasonable thing to be thinking, but his Omega-self seemed to be more dominant than logic or reason at the moment.


	12. Enjoy The Ride

Lucy Saxon pretended to be asleep when she felt Harry stir. When she heard him exit, she waited a few moments before sitting up.

In a lot of ways it was a relief to have some space to herself. Harry frightened her - he had hurt her recently. But being rejected by him was also incredibly depressing.

Only months ago, when she had married Harry Saxon, she had believed they were in love - that he loved her, the way she loved him. The way she still loved him.

She was beginning to realise that the idea of him loving her had been a ridiculous fairytale in her own head. So far from the real truth.

Lucy was about to get up, when silent tears began to fall down her cheeks. The silence soon turned into small sobs, and all of a sudden, she saw no point in getting up. The Master had shown her the end of the universe. _Death, burning... Screaming into the cold and the dark emptiness... If Harry didn’t love her, she had nothing. There was no point in anything._

She was sobbing quietly for just over an hour, until finally, she had no tears left to cry.

She then lay there, for so many hours, curled up under the duvet, staring blankly at the wall. She felt completely numb. At least her mind was clear now.

She didn’t even notice the door opening, until she heard a soft voice. “Oh, whoops - sorry. Wrong room.” She heard the Doctor say, hastily. She turned her head to look at the Doctor and it seemed as though he were about to leave -

“Wait, no - _please_.” She said, quickly. Perhaps the Doctor could help her? Perhaps they were on the same side?

The Doctor hesitated in the doorway, awkwardly, clearly torn between leaving and staying. The Doctor seemed to make his decision, and turned around to look at Lucy.

“You’re upset.” He said, blankly, as though he felt nothing about it. He was staring at her in the same way she had been gazing at the wall for the last hour.

Lucy then noticed the Doctor’s appearance. His hair was a mess, there were marks on his neck, a few of the buttons on his shirt were undone, and by the redness around his eyes, it looked as though he had been crying recently.

“I see.” Lucy stated, quietly.

The Doctor looked down at his feet for a second. He seemed agitated, like he desperately didn’t want to be there. It was odd. Normally, the Doctor looked at Lucy with such a kindness, she hadn’t ever seen before. But now, the Doctor looked distant, detached - as though his mind was somewhere else.

“Is there anything, uh -” The Doctor sighed, “I can do?” He finished, wearily.

And in that moment, Lucy Saxon decided that she hated the Doctor. Harry didn’t love her - Harry loved him. Or at least as close to love as that sick bastard could feel. The Doctor was so much like the Master, and she hated him.

“Nothing.” She replied, coldly.

The Doctor gave her a small nod, then exited, very glad to have been given the chance to leave.

“Doctoorr!” She heard an enthusiastic call from outside. It was Harry, calling from somewhere down the long hallway. “No - not over there!” He laughed, happily, “Come here!”

The Doctor saw him. He was standing a distance away, beaming at him from the other end of the corridor.

There were many doors on the left and right of the corridor.

The Doctor gritted his teeth slightly, feeling highly annoyed now, realising that the Master had purposefully given him directions to the wrong room - where Lucy would be. Why? He wasn’t sure. Probably to hurt Lucy, or to confuse him. He was just playing games, as usual.

“ _Come on!_ ” The Master repeated, more loudly, more forcefully, a slight sense of order in his voice. The Doctor inhaled and exhaled, calmly. Then, made his way towards him. The Master’s grin became wider as he got closer.

When he was close enough, the Master grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against a wall, smashing their lips together and kissing him fervently.

The Doctor kept his hands and mouth to himself, and the Master, realising the Doctor was hardly reciprocating, stopped. “What’s _wrong_?” He asked, in a sickly sweet, ironically sympathetic fashion, tracing a finger across the Doctor’s cheek.

“I’m just - tired.” He said, jaggedly, as though the words were difficult to form.

 _Look after Omega, make Omega happy..._ was swimming through the Master’s mind.

To the Doctor’s surprise, the Master’s eyes softened for some reason - only a micro amount. But they definitely did soften. He wasn’t used to seeing the Master looking so... warm. But he liked it all the same.

“Come with me.” The Master said, like fire cutting through icy cold water.

The Master gently took his hand, and led him through the door they had been standing next to.

The Doctor followed him a short-way down a corridor, before turning and being led into a cozy-looking room.

The first thing the Doctor noticed about the room was its considerably increased temperature - a few degrees for sure.

There were some settees and couches around a glowing fireplace, and plenty of books surrounded the room neatly placed on shelves.

The Doctor sank onto one of the large, cushy settees immediately, getting into the most comfortable position on his back, tucking the squashy pillows underneath his head.

He hadn’t slept in a bed for a while. In fact, he had only been able to lie down on the hard floor. Or rarely, sit down on one of the straight-backed, hard seats, which he couldn’t sleep in.

“Would you like a drink?” The Master said, coolly, opening a bottle of whisky.

“I wasn’t particularly fond of it in my last regeneration.”

“Try it.” He shrugged, pouring him a glass. The Master handed it to him, and he took it, gracefully.

He took a sip, swallowed, and then coughed. “You don’t like it?” The Master asked, with a smile, offering to take the glass away from him.

“No.” He didn’t like it. Who could drink this stuff? It was foully bitter. “ _I want it_ though.” He added. He wanted to drink this horrible tasting golden liquid, and was even hoping he might get a little drunk. He would need to drink a lot for that to happen - a lot more than humans. But, the whiskey was strong, and in addition, he had a very strong will to get drunk. He was highly motivated!

The Master sat down on an armchair opposite, whiskey in hand, gazing at the roaring fireplace. The Doctor found himself staring at the Master’s rather attractive and striking mien.

He glanced to look at the Doctor, with a smile - he had clearly caught the Doctor staring at him. The Doctor’s hearts quickened slightly, feeling slightly embarrassed. He prayed that the Master hadn’t heard his thoughts. _He never had been a good telepath..._

The Master took a gulp of whiskey, and the Doctor copied him, his throat stinging slightly as the warm liquid went down.

“You’re hurting Lucy. Why can’t you just stop?” The Doctor said, disdainfully, breaking the silence. The Master finished his last sip of whiskey slowly, before turning his head to peer at the Doctor. There was a cold, calculated fury in his eyes that the Doctor didn’t like.

“Doctor. Let me make something clear: She’s not your concern.”

The Doctor unintentionally shifted nervously in his seat. “In fact, _nothing’s_ your concern, anymore. So you just sit back, relax, and enjoy what I decide to give you. I will forgive you, this once, but if you ever voice your opinion again, you will find yourself sleeping in the tent, _completely alone._ And we both know _you don’t want that_.” He said, with a cruel smile. “I don’t want that either, by the way.” He added, defensively, with his hands up, innocently, “I’ve grown _so fond_ of your company.” He said, earnestly, “I just need to continue ensuring you know _your place._ ”

The Doctor felt unusually quiet all of a sudden. Any anger he had felt before over the treatment of Lucy had dissipated completely, replaced with an uncomfortable fluttering feeling in his stomach. “Do you understand?” The Master asked, calmly.

“I understand.” The Doctor replied, more quietly than he had intended.

“Great!” He said, with a wide and teethey, yet devilishly handsome, grin. The Master took another swig of whiskey, and the Doctor downed the rest of his all in one go. “More?” The Master asked, tilting the bottle towards him.

“ _Yes_.”

The Master strolled up to him, refilled his glass, then, with a smirk and a moment of thought, decided to leave the entire bottle with the Doctor.

He sat back down, looking at total ease as he leaned back into his armchair and watched the Doctor quietly.

The Doctor didn’t seem to care that he was watching. The Doctor wasn’t slightly embarrassed about the amount of whiskey he was consuming. The Doctor felt... hopeless, and he needed something to numb that pain. There was also a lot of self-loathing. It felt satisfying to punish himself with such a revolting drink.

Only an hour later, the Doctor had drank the entire bottle, and his head was feeling a bit fuzzy.

Unexpectedly, the Master stood up and put some music on.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to the Doctor. Hesitantly, the Doctor took it, and was enthusiastically lifted onto his feet. He stumbled a bit on the way and actually laughed at himself scornfully. He definitely was drunk.

The Master took the Doctor’s and pressed his slim body against his. “Drinking doesn’t have to make you sad, you know.” The Master said, with a smile, as they moved in time to the music.

“Oh, yeah?” He replied, distantly, sleepily nuzzling into the Master’s neck.

“You don’t have to be sad - submitting to me.” The Master said, “I could _help you_ enjoy things.”

“Your idea of enjoyment is probably evil though, isn’t it?” He asked, half-heartedly joking.

The Master didn’t answer the Doctor’s question, but moved onto his own motives.

“It’s easy. You just... _enjoy the ride._ ” He grinned, and unexpectedly, twirled the Doctor on the spot, before pulling him back by the waist. The Doctor had gasped at the suddenness and vigour of it. But once he was back in his arms, he relaxed, and chuckled. “ _There it is!_ ” He said, cheerfully, tapping the Doctor on the lips of his smile. “Life for you, here, with me, could be _so delectable_ , if you just _give in_ to it. _Stop_ fighting me.” The Master whispered, seductively. “It’s pointless! I’ve won!” He added, with a smirk, “And you’ll realise that me winning is the _best_ thing that has _ever_ happened to you.”

“Wow, ok. You’re _definitely_ drunk!” The Doctor laughed, cynically, like he had thought it was all some sort of joke.

He was just avoiding it. But the Master wasn’t worried about this. He couldn’t avoid it for long.

“Not as drunk as you are, clearly.” He retorted.

“ _Hmm_?” The Doctor hummed, happily.

“Well, you’ve certainly cheered up!” They both knew he wasn’t really happy though.

The Doctor isn’t sure how it all happens, but not long later, he finds himself being pushed onto a bed. They had probably ended up flirting.

They kissed for a long time, at first rolling over and fighting for dominance, pinning each other down, pushing and bucking. But gradually it became less urgent, a little calmer and more deliberate.

Time ebbs and slows. They lay unmoving together, on their sides, still kissing. The Doctor's hand was stroking through his hair and down the back of his neck, making him shiver and press against him.

They could feel each other in their minds, too, just each other’s presence, nothing scary or intrusive, just there. _Soothing, arousing, wanting._


	13. Please

The Doctor awoke with a content sigh, as he felt the Master press a kiss to the back of his neck, an arm wrapped around the Doctor’s waist. The Doctor felt along the Master’s arm - stroking across his smooth skin. It was almost unbelievable. Shaking slightly, the Doctor’s hand moved all the way down his arm, to finally his hand, entwining his fingers with his.

In his mind, the Doctor quietly wished it could always be like this.

“It _could be_.” The Master breathed against his neck. He had clearly slipped into the Doctor’s head without him noticing - read his thoughts. “You know what you need to do.”

 _Yes..._ He remembered now.

 _‘Life for you, here, with me, could be so delectable, if you just give in to it. Stop fighting me.’_ He had said.

“Mhm.” The Doctor hummed, half heartedly. He would much rather just continue this comfortable embrace then have to think about... all of that.

“Let me help you _decide_.” The Master whispered, grinning, leaning into his ear.

They both laughed (the Doctor rather breathlessly) as the Master rolled on top of him and started kissing him eagerly. He was pinning the Doctor beneath him, holding the top half of his weight up with two hands either side of the Doctor’s head.

His fingers brushed underneath the rim of the Doctor’s boxers. The Doctor couldn’t contain a gasp of anticipation. Making eye contact, the Master tilted his head to the side with a sweet smile, silently asking for permission. The Doctor nodded quickly, his fingernails already digging painfully into his own hand.

The Master’s fingers touched intimate skin. He then held him right there, and the Doctor moaned, softly. The Master liked that sound. He looked up at him, fondly, before kissing the Doctor on the lips once more. Breaking apart, the Master put his mouth to to his erection. The Master groaned, and the Doctor sighed.

Soon, he was reaching his limit, and just when the Doctor wanted his touch _more than ever_ , the Master pulled away.

“What? Why?” He spluttered, furiously and anxiously,

“ _Shhh_. Honestly, relax.” The Master replied, coaxingly. “Would you like me to continue?” He asked, politely and calmly, as though it wasn’t obvious.

“Yes.” He replied, sharply, teeth gritted.

“Oh, so rude, Doctor!” He giggled, “Be a _good boy,_ and ask me nicely.”

“What do you want me to say?” The Doctor asked, tensely. “ _Yes_?” He added, more softly, in an attempt to be more polite.

“You can do better...”

“ _Please_.”

The Master rolled his eyes and laughed. “Better... But still not what I want. Come on, you know what I want!”

 _Yes..._ The Doctor was beginning to suspect he did know what the Master wanted. But it crushed his soul whenever he said it.

“Please. Master.” He said, almost inaudibly.

“What did you say?” He asked, innocently.

“ _Please, Master._ ” He said, more loudly.

“What do you want, dear?”

Oh, he was going to _kill_ the Master soon... _slowly and painfully._

“I want you to-“ He paused, trying to think of the least humiliating words, “You know what I want. _Please_.”

“Oh, _yes I do._ ” He grinned.

Still smiling up at him, the Master took him fully into his mouth, sinking his head down and sucking hard before moving his head back up, his other hand tight on his hip.

The Doctor’s hands curled tightly into the duvet, as his his head dropped back with a groan.

Very soon, the Doctor was shaking in ecstasy - he cried out, gripping onto his partner’s hair. The Master moaned with his cry, finding the entire situation _so_ pleasing and _so, so sexy._

The Master watched the Doctor, as he lay on his back panting before him.

“Wow.” He uttered, breathlessly, gazing lustily back at the Master.

The Master licked his lips at the sight of his Doctor... so undone. He wet his lips in a predatory sort of way, like he was looking at a meal, that should have scared the Doctor. But instead, it just excited him. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

A trace of a smile crept onto the Doctor’s slightly open mouth, as he stared at the Master. He felt happy. No, not happy. He felt overwhelmed - completely and utterly awestruck.

The Doctor saw a hint of glossy saliva left on his lips, and immediately had the urge to lick it off. He did so, as the Master brought his lips to his - he didn’t even have to move.

“You are _glorious_.” The Master said, slowly, and reverently, nipping him on the shoulder. The Doctor jolted suddenly, as an aftershock of heavenly pleasure rippled through him. _Pure delight._

Soon, the Doctor felt sleepy again, and he contently nuzzled into the Master’s shoulder, wrapping a warm leg around his waist. He wanted to be as close to him. As close as possible. He wanted to be apart of him. He didn’t want to know where he began and he ended. He needed _Alpha_.

_They needed each other._

Neither of them slept, they just lay there, in bliss. Until finally, the Master spoke.

“I have things to do today, I’m afraid.” He said, so softly, with a smile, as he ran his fingers through his hair. The Doctor murmured an inaudible no or something, into the Master’s shoulder. He had to gently nudge the Doctor off, and stand up.

Feeling slightly dejected, the Doctor sat up straight, and intently watched the Master as he got dressed into a perfectly fitted suit. The Master liked it when he watched him, and so he smirked. “I’ll have plenty of time for you later.” The Master said, almost coldly, and the Doctor felt a numb sensation of anguish filling him up.

The Master straightened his tie in the mirror, and gave a certainly smug, smile of approval. “ _See you later._ ” He winked at the Doctor, as he left. With a loud slam, the door had opened and shut, and the Master was gone.

The Doctor sighed as he rested his head back onto the soft pillow.

He felt strangely empty. He knew he should feel something. He had felt it, that anguish, heart break filling him up as the Master tossed him aside. And yet... he just felt benumbed, desensitised. _Incapable of feeling_.


	14. It’s Not Real

The Doctor got dressed and briefly checked his own appearance in the mirror.

His hair was stuck up and messy, and his shirt and trousers were all crinkled. He didn’t have the same togetherness that the Master seemed to have as he left the room.

The Doctor quickly finger combed his own hair, in some attempt to make it look more tidy, and left the bedroom.

The first thing the Doctor noticed was that there were no guards in this area. He walked through many steamy corridors until he reached the conference room. There were guards on either side of the doors. Not bothering to knock, the Doctor opened the doors, which slid open easily, as they were not locked.

He could see the Master talking to a large group of soldiers around the long table, but couldn’t gather quite what they were saying. They became silent as soon as they noticed his presence.

“Doctor! You’re up!” The Master called, merrily, “Fabulous! Come over here!”

The Doctor walked towards the Master slowly. “ _Sit_ ,” The Master said, patting his lap, as though the Doctor was a pet.

“Uh,” The Doctor hesitated, feeling highly humiliated. He could feel his cheeks burning up in response.

The Doctor winced, as a sharp force invaded his mind, _‘Do as you’re told,’_ the Master’s voice said, intensely, _‘You don’t want to be punished, do you?’_ His voice sounded so loudly in his mind, it temporarily blocked off all of his external senses.

Shivering slightly, the Doctor sat on the Master’s lap. ‘ _Well done,’_ the Master’s voice said, affectionately, and _a shot of warmth raced through the Doctor’s body_.

The Doctor didn’t make eye contact with anyone for the entire meeting. He kept his eyes on the ground, or on the Master’s hands, which were examining his own hands softly. Gentle, warm fingertips would trace over the Doctor’s wrists and palms and fingers. It was as though they were the only two people in the room. The only two that mattered, anyway.

The Doctor vaguely heard the Master discussing his further world domination plans. But he had trouble focusing on the details of it all. His mind kept swimming in and out of its own space, and into the Master’s.

“Doctor?” A voice asked. The Doctor became aware of his surroundings. He was still sitting on the Master’s lap, his elbow resting on the table, chin in his hand. Except all of the soldiers had gone - he could see the last two exiting this moment. In the corner of the room, he saw Lucy sitting there quietly. He hadn’t even noticed she had been there all this time.

“Master.” The Doctor replied, unsurely.

“I think you tuned out just then, Doctor.” He said, fondly, brushing the back of his hand against the Doctor’s cheek.

“Oh.”

“Are you hungry?” He asked, “I am. Get us some breakfast.” The Master said, clicking his fingers irritatedly at a servant. She nodded, and hurried out of the room.

It was just him, the Master and Lucy now.

The Master didn’t seem to care or notice that Lucy was there. “You look _yummy_.” He said, before he kissed the Doctor passionately, right there, in front of her. And the Doctor found himself kissing back. His tongue forced itself into his mouth and to the Doctor’s shock, he actually moaned aloud. The Master’s fingers dug into his hair, before fingernails scraped all the way down his neck.

“ _Disgusting_.” Lucy said, savagely, under her breath. Perhaps she didn’t know - perhaps the Master had never revealed this to her. But as Time Lords, they both had an acute sense of hearing, and the Master most certainly heard her little comment. He threw his head back and laughed, pulling away from the Doctor. The Doctor whimpered very quietly at the loss of touch.

“Sorry, dear. Lucy’s been particularly grouchy this week.”

The Doctor shifted on the Master’s lap, to turn his head around to look at Lucy (he had been facing the Master). There were angry tears swelling in her eyes, and her face was a little pinker than usual. “I finally told her the truth.” He continued, reminiscently, “I’ve been dreading that moment for a while now.” The Master rolled his eyes, “I knew she’d be annoying afterwards.” He paused, “But she’ll settle down again, eventually.” He said, thoughtfully, as though Lucy wasn’t even in the room.

Breakfast arrived and the Doctor was no longer sitting on the Master’s lap, but on a chair at the table. He had sausage, bacon, tomatoes, toast and egg - all the basics of a human, British breakfast. The Master knew what he liked. There was also a jug of fresh orange juice, coffee and tea. It was all cooked and prepared perfectly, of course. He could get the best of the best to do whatever he wished as ruler of the Earth.

The Doctor took a sip of orange juice, as he glanced at Lucy Saxon, who was now staring at him, a vivid, clear anger and upset in her eyes. It seemed the Master only wanted to keep her around for, (in his words) her ‘ _hilarious_ ’ and ‘ _entertaining_ ’ facial expressions of her pain and torment.

The Doctor cut his sausage and took a bite. It was juicy, but perfectly cooked. It was delicious. He chewed and swallowed, quietly, his eyes occasionally flickering towards the Master and Lucy.

Lucy got up from where she was sitting with a loud scrape, and grabbed the jug of orange juice, before sitting back down and pouring herself a glass. She wasn’t eating.

The Master was drinking coffee. Mostly looking at the Doctor, with a few glances towards Lucy to make himself laugh.

She took a gulp of orange juice before determinedly trying to make the Doctor feel as uncomfortable as possible with her hard stare.

“Ok. I’m bored of this.” The Master said, sharply, standing up. The suddenness of it could have made the Doctor flinch, but he was too used to his erratic behaviour. “Lucy. _Get out_. It’s no longer amusing.”

Lucy’s mouth was half open, indignantly, as fresh tears were shining in her eyes.

“Harry...” She said, shakily. “Please, just - listen to yourself. Please, _I love y-“_

“ _Get out!”_ He shouted, heartlessly. It sent a chill down the Doctor’s spine.

“I -“

“Don’t make me angry, Lucy.” He said, threateningly. Lucy took one last pained look at the Doctor, before hurrying away.

The Doctor felt like speaking up for a split moment - but then he remembered...

_‘You’ve hurt Lucy. Just stop.’ The Doctor had said to him, full of rage, only days ago._

_‘Doctor. Let me make something clear:_ _She’s not your concern.’ There had been a cold, calculated fury in his eyes that the Doctor didn’t like. ‘... I will forgive you, this once, but if you ever voice your opinion again, you will find yourself_ _sleeping in the tent, completely alone. And we both know you don’t want that.’_

The Doctor’s objection got stuck in his throat, and instead he decided to take another bite into his toast.

Lucy was _actually_ in _love_ with Harry Saxon, the Doctor thought, vaguely, as he munched his toast. Poor Lucy. He could relate, in a far more complex way.

The Doctor’s eyes met the Master’s. There was a knowing something there, between them.

Had the Master read his thoughts? The Master had been inside his head a lot without him realising recently. Maybe this was one of those times. Maybe not though.

“You are _really good_ in bed.” He said, out of the blue, with a devilish smile, “I’ll have to keep you in my bed every night from now on.” He said, casually, lightly, as though he were discussing the weather forecast.

The Doctor’s eyes flitted down to his knees. He put his knife and fork down, and swallowed, feeling downhearted now.

“That was meant to be a complement, you know.” The Master said, extremely confused by the Doctor’s reaction. He had hoped the Doctor would have smiled, or laughed, or blushed. Instead, he just looked downright miserable. “Ruling the world is no fun when you’re like this. All _sad_ and _repentant_.” He said, sulkily, like a child not getting its favourite toy.

“Oh no, how terrible. Poor you.” The Doctor said, flatly.

“Oooh, sarcasm!” He grinned, “Sassy. Fun. _I like it!”_

The Master distinctly licked his lips, and the Doctor had to look away for his own sanity. His Omega was driving him insane. One moment, he was repulsed and angry at the Master, and wanted to get away from him. The next, he had a strong urge to lie down _submissively_ , present his bare form to the Master, allow him to _take whatever he wanted_ \- make _his Alpha happy, please him_. “I like the sound of that.” The Master smirked.

“Oh, get out of my head - It’s not fair.” The Doctor replied, disgruntled. “You know it’s not real.” He said, sharply.

“Isn’t it?” He asked.

The Doctor bit his lip, thinking about his response to this. “No.” He said, eventually. But neither of them believed him.

There were a few knocks on the door.

“Yes, what? Who is it?” The Master called, petulantly.

“General Anderson, sir.” Said a voice from behind the steel doors, “Concerning Martha Jones.”

“Oh!” He replied, giving the Doctor an excited look. The Doctor stared back, impassively. “Come in, come in!”

The Doctor looked at the man. He was different from the last General the Master had made. Clearly, the last one had lasted less than a week, just as the Doctor had predicted. The man looked slightly nervous, as he seemed to wipe some sweat off his brow.

The Doctor glanced towards the Master. He was studying the Doctor for a long few moments, until he said, “Doctor. You’re too distracting. Go now.”

“What-?” He began,

“You heard me. Go.”

The Doctor stood up hastily, dropping his knife and fork with a small clatter. The Doctor had thought he might want to get away from the Master, but now specifically been told to go away, he really didn’t want to leave. He took one last look at the Master before making his exit.

“I’ll see you later.” He called after him, inscrutably.

The Doctor stopped, turned, and hesitantly nodded, before leaving.


	15. I Want Everything

The Doctor kept himself occupied for the rest of the day by reading books he found in the Master’s bedroom. Well, one of his bedrooms. He clearly had another one with Lucy which had recently been abandoned.

So the Doctor lay on the bed, above the messy covers, his head propped up on a pillow, and continued to read for the entire day. He got through about three story books, which were fairly repetitive and uninspiring, when he realised it was dark outside the Valiant. His stomach flipped when he realised the Master might be joining him soon. He put the book down and got up, walking directly into the en suite bathroom and locking the door behind him.

He sighed, slumping to the ground, his back against the door, his hands in his hair.

This was all so wrong. On so many levels. And yet, it was so hard to give up, because it felt so right. _What was he supposed to do? Sit in a cage for the rest of the year?_

It was getting slightly uncomfortable sitting on the hard, cold, stone ground. Deciding he needed a shower, he stood up and switched the hot water on. He undressed, uncaring of leaving his clothes in a messy pile on the floor, which would surely make them even more crinkled and dirtied.

He stepped into the shower, and relaxing into the heat, stepped back to lean against the wall, as hot water trickled down his body. He used a soap to wash his body. It had notes of sandalwood, rose and citrus in it.

Having stepped out of the shower and dried himself, he wrapped a towel around his torso and unlocked the door. Walking out into the bedroom, he left his clothes behind on the bathroom floor. He wasn’t going to change back into them tonight.

He let the towel drop off, leaving it on the ground at the end of the bed, and got under the duvet.

He picked up his book from the bedside table, and continued reading for a little while. Probably around an hour, until he heard the door open. He kept his eyes on the book. He was on his side, facing away from the door, so he luckily didn’t have to look at the Master.

He heard the soft thump of clothes falling to the ground, and the bed creaked slightly as the Doctor felt his presence on the other side of the bed.

“Are you _cross_ with me?” The Master said, sweetly, and teasingly, pressing a kiss onto the back of the Doctor’s shoulder.

“A bit.” He shrugged, as he continued reading.

“ _Mmm_.” He murmured, tenderly, “You’ve certainly made yourself comfortable, though.” He said, slipping an arm underneath the duvet and wrapping it around his bare waist. The Doctor’s breath hitched slightly. “Your body is so... _reactive_.” He continued, adoringly, massaging small circles with his thumb into the Doctor’s skin. “All _ready_ for your Master.” He said, softly, with an audible smile.

The Doctor definitely wasn’t reading anymore, but staring at the page of words blankly.

“What have you ben up to?” He asked, casually, as he continue to stroke and trace invisible shapes onto the Doctor’s skin.

“I, uh-“ He paused, shutting his eyes to concentrate on replying, instead of the soft, jittery feeling across his skin, “I read some books.”

“ _Mmm?_ ”

“You didn’t give me much else to do.” The Doctor said, stiffly.

“Well, I assumed you wouldn’t want to participate in my daily activities... You know, ruling the world, and all of that. But please, do feel free to join in, if you’ve changed your mind...?”

“ _No_. No, I haven’t.” The Doctor said, shortly.

“Fine by me.” He smiled, “You smell _good_.” He added, finding the Doctor’s hand and entangling his fingers with his. “Turn to face me.”

The Doctor froze. Then, he managed to put his book down and turn onto his other side. Their chests were now touching, and the Doctor felt extremely vulnerable. Before, he had been able to hide his face and give any answer he wanted with only his voice. He felt more exposed now.

The Master could see the Doctor’s eyes glinting slightly with tears. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

The Doctor closed his eyes, and one single tear fell down his cheek. “Nothing.” He answered, quietly.

The Master looked at the Doctor curiously for a moment, then a wide grin stretched across his face. “ _Good_.” He said. “You don’t have anything to be sad about, anymore.” He whispered, wiping away his tear. “It’s all over.”

Those words felt as though the Doctor was being dipped into icy cold water. If Martha Jones couldn’t save us all, it surely was all over.

The Master moved over to the bed side table and with a small flick, the lights switched off.

The Doctor felt the Master move close to him again. Even in the darkness he could just make out the Master’s form. He put one arm around the Doctor’s torso and his other hand trailed through the Doctor’s hair.

“Master?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

He wanted to say - Let me help you. Let me redeem you. Let me save the Earth and yourself. But the words couldn’t leave his mouth. He had said it so many times. It seemed pointless. It would only cause more suffering.

“Nothing.” The Doctor replied, moving even closer, further into his touch.

The Doctor exhaled, his inner Omega purring happily at the closeness to his Alpha. It was much easier, in the dark. They could forget who they were, and focus on their instincts. He didn’t have to look into those depthless eyes.

The Doctor’s lips found his, and he rested there, noses touching. He felt nice, he felt like home.

The Doctor awoke in a position far more intertwined with the Master than how he remembered falling asleep.

One of them had clearly kicked the duvets off in their sleep, and instead they seemed to have wrapped themselves around each other, presumably to replace the missing duvet. The Doctor’s legs were curled around the Master’s torso and the Master was holding the Doctor in a firm embrace, chest to chest.

The Doctor found himself smiling at the Master’s sleeping self. He looked so peaceful. Something the Doctor never saw when the Master was awake.

The Doctor had gone to sleep feeling so sad, but upon waking up, he felt much happier. Maybe he could get used to this life.

“Are you watching me sleep?” The Master asked, his eyes still shut, a smug smile stretching across his face.

Such an attractive smile though. Damn him.

“ _Maybe_.” He replied, sweeping a stray piece of hair off the Master’s face.

“That’s a bit creepy, you know.” He sighed contently, still smiling. And then he opened his eyes. “You look _happy_.” He said, curiously, “What happened to all that repentance and misery?”

“ _Maybe_ I changed my mind.” The Doctor replied, with a small shrug.

He could have sworn the Master’s eyes glinted excitedly for a moment, which brought the Doctor a small rush of exhilaration himself. He would never admit to this however.

The Master kissed him, almost lazily, as they lay there together, and the Doctor kissed him back.

The Doctor’s eyes looked a little hazy with lust as the Master pulled back to admire him. The Master gave a satisfied smirk at the sight of this. The Doctor’s lips were still parted a fracture also, and the Master thought he looked so very pretty like this.

“I _should_ be getting up now. Busy schedule. Cities to burn. People to kill.” The Master said, “...But you are so very tempting like this.” He said, silkily.

“You don’t have to kill _anyone_.” The Doctor said, quietly, hopefully, gripping onto his hand. “We can leave. _Just you and me._ You can leave all of this behind. You don’t need Earth. Please, just, listen to me.” It sounded like he was begging now.

“ _Yesss_.” The Master hissed, stroking the back of the Doctor’s hair. “I don’t need Earth.”

“Yes...” The Doctor said, quickly, pecking him on the lips in appreciation. “Exactly.”

“We could leave all of this behind.” He said, impassively, staring into the distance just behind the Doctor, thoughtfully.

“But I want it.” The Master said, sharply and coldly, possessively. “And _I want you._ ” The Master’s grip on the back of his hair tightened. He pulled on his hair enough to make the Doctor wince. “I want _everything_.” This sudden change made the Doctor panic slightly. He seemed... angry now.

“ _Master_...” the Doctor said, coaxingly. Coaxingly? When did he ever speak this way? He was getting so desperate now.

He gently touched the Master’s cheek, then closed in a little so their foreheads were touching. He must look like a madman, the Doctor thought, as he tried to comfort and reason with a man who had slaughtered billions. “Let’s not talk about this now.” The Doctor sighed. He would rather not hear an answer which was going to be ‘No’. He would prefer to pretend it was still a possibility - that the Master still could be saved. It gave him the excuse he still so desperately needed. The excuse to care for him.


	16. Mr. Master Wants to Play!

Soon, the Master sat up and began getting dressed. Feeling rather exposed all of a sudden, with so much skin on show, the Doctor pulled the duvet all the way up to his chin as he watched the Master slip his shirt on.

The Master glanced towards the ensuite. Looking thoughtful, he opened the door and peered inside. He saw the pile of clothes the Doctor has left there yesterday. He shut the ensuite door and continued getting dressed.

“Your clothes are dirty.” He opened and reached inside a set of drawers. “Here.” He pulled out a few items of clothing, and chucked them at the Doctor, so they landed on the bed beside him. “You can wear these.”

The Doctor nodded. Then slowly got dressed too. The Master was wearing a suit, as usual, and the Doctor had been given a loose, V-necked, white cotton shirt and some trousers.

“I have things to do.” The Master said, straightening his tie in the mirror.

“Okay.” The Doctor said, quietly and a little resentfully. The Doctor inhaled through his nose, and noticed the clothing he was wearing smelt of the Master.

The Master had got the Doctor to watch him for the day. The Doctor was sitting in a chair in the conference room, some distance away from the Master, his chin in his hand.

The Master would bounce up and down whenever something pleased him. He would skip ecstatically across the room as he ordered the Toclafane to kill on the planet below. He kissed Lucy roughly, grabbing her by the waist and forcing his mouth onto her lips, before staring intently at the Doctor, hoping to see some sort of reaction. The Doctor didn’t give him one. He just stared back, as impassively as he could.

Lucy looked a little stunned as the Master pulled away from her. The Doctor couldn’t blame her. He was being even more erratic and inconsistent than usual.

The Master smiled at Lucy - all teeth and absolutely nothing authentic. The Doctor had to look away. Even he found this smile disturbing. Lucy seemed to visibly shudder. He was looking at her just like he would at any human. He looked hateful, but not because she was significant in anyway, simply because she was inferior. Then, he had simply ordered her to go away.

It was getting darker, and by evening the Doctor was beginning to feel tired. Not physically tired. Just tired in the sense he thought he had seen enough today. Enough for a lifetime in fact. He didn’t want to sit here and watch any longer.

“Master.” He said, catching his attention. “Can I go?” He asked, his eyes flickering hopefully towards the doors.

The Master watched the Doctor thoughtfully, considering his request. For the first time today, the Master seemed to momentarily forget about his work. He kneeled down in front of the sitting Doctor, and placed his hands on the Doctor’s thighs. Hist touch felt icy. The Doctor squirmed ever so slightly in response, before hastily stilling himself. The Master smirked to himself, and strangely the Doctor didn’t find himself hating the situation. A small smile, tugged the Doctor’s own lips, before he became aware all the other people in the room, and felt his cheeks heat up. Those people were mainly soldiers, in case the Master felt like torturing or killing anyone around him. As well as a couple of servants.

There was also a Toclafane, hovering rather close by. It says enthusiastically to the Doctor, “Mister Master wants to play!” In its childlike voice as ever.

The Master looked round at the Toclafane, fondly, a broad smile on his face.

It moved closer to the Doctor, as thought it were keen, like a predator closing in on its prey.

“Master.” He said, calmly, despite his uneasiness.

The Master slid his hands all the way down his legs, slowly. The Doctor had to suppress a shiver. He suddenly regretted asking to leave. He should have just kept quiet.

The Master bit his lip, tantalisingly, looking up at the Doctor with a wickedly appealing grin. Then, he began to move onto his lap. He sat there, face to face, so close their noses were touching. The Doctor anxiously kept his hands to himself, making sure not to touch the Master in anyway.

“Master...” The Doctor repeated, breathily, desperately wanting to get away from him, and at the same time, wanting to pull him in closer.

“Are you liking my new rule?” The Master whispered in his ear, as his nails scraped down the Doctor’s shirt, all the way across his clothed chest.

“You asked that before.” He said, in a hurry. He swallowed. “ _Depends_.” He said, thickly. It slipped out. He should have told him no - he should be rejecting him.

“ _Mmm_?” The Master hummed against his neck. The Doctor could feel the vibration of his voice against his skin.

“I like it when it’s _just us._ ”

“Oh, you do? Want me all to yourself?” The Master said, teasingly.

“ _Yes_.” He breathed. _Yes, yes - don’t hurt anyone else. Just me. Just focus on me, he thought._

“Tough.” He said, harshly, with a smirk. He began to undo the buttons of his shirt, violently, practically tearing them off, and the Doctor protested loudly. “Oh, Doctor. You are in no position to argue. Would you prefer it if I killed one of your pets?” He said, still grinning.

In that moment, the Toclafane was bearing all of its knives and weapons threateningly at the Doctor. “Or, I could even kill ten! If you wanted.”

The Doctor considered for a moment, and with a sinking feeling of dread, he came to the solemn conclusion that there wasn’t any way out of this. After watching the Toclafane carefully for a few moments, he sighed quietly, closed his eyes, and bowed his head a little in submission.

“You made the right choice.” The Master purred, affectionately, grazing his teeth across the Doctor’s neck before kissing it.

Despite the Doctor’s yielding, with a sudden, horrifying scream, the Toclafane had launched upon one of the servants and slashed her with its sharp blade, slicing a deep cut across the neck.

The Doctor jolted and gasped, in shock and distress, as the woman fell to the ground. She twitched slightly, as blood poured and squirted out of her neck and onto the floor. She would be dead in seconds.

The Doctor gripped onto the Master’s shoulder tightly, enough to hurt him, as he watched the last dying moments of the woman on the ground.

“I haven’t killed anyone for your _bad_ behaviour in _way too long_.” He said, casually, “Just had to remind you.” He said, softly, delicately stroking the back of his hand against the Doctor’s cheek.

The Doctor grabbed onto the Master’s wrist sharply - getting it away from him. The Doctor had it strongly in his grip, and suddenly had the desire to break it. But he wouldn’t.

The Master warned him, with a dangerous, knowing look, and the Doctor released him.

“It’s a shame, really. You’ve been so good all day... You just had to ruin it now... _Typical!_ ”

The Doctor kept silent, as he stared into the distance behind the Master, trying to detach himself from the situation - forget where he was, somehow. “I can tell you’re sorry, though.” He murmured, gently, soothingly, as he watched the Doctor’s eyes glisten a little now. “So _your Master forgives you._ ” He said, with a small kiss - a peck on the lips. The kiss could have been described as sweet, if it weren’t for the toxic situation.

He moved off his lap, and took his hand, and the Doctor didn’t refuse it as the Master led him out of the room. “Someone clear up the mess!” He called out behind them as they left.

They entered the Master’s bedroom. He pushed the Doctor down, so he was sitting on the bed tensely.

The Doctor’s eyes met his by accident, and he quickly looked away, not wanting to attract any more attention to himself.

But was that what he really wanted?

He realised his chest was mainly bare as most of his buttons had been undone or ripped off completely. Feeling self-conscious, he was about to pull the shirt closer to his body, when he felt a sudden urge to do something reckless. He had felt it earlier too, when he had told the Master he preferred it when it was just them.

The Doctor’s eyes found the Master’s. This time, the Doctor didn’t want to look away. Maintaining this intense eye contact, the Doctor shoved his own shirt off and flung it across the room so it landed somewhere with a small thud.

“ _You wanted it off,_ ” The Doctor said, calmly, as he slowly lowered his head onto the mattress so he was laying down in front of the Master. The Doctor felt anger, in some sense. But he showed none of this through his external appearance. He even had a slight smirk on his face, as he looked up at the Master staring down at him, ravenously. “ _Master_.” The Doctor added, so sincerely, it sounded sarcastic.

An unmistakeable smile flickered across the Master’s face, at the sound of his name, coming out of those particular lips.

He climbed onto the bed, and starting at the Doctor’s feet, crawled all the way up his body so he was holding himself about the Doctor, pinning him down below him. They were face to face, and the Master took the opportunity to watch the Doctor’s facial expressions closely.

His calm demeanour was difficult to keep up when the Master was so close to him. The Doctor’s breathing had quickened, his chest visibly rising up and down. He did feel very trapped in this position, underneath the Master’s weight. _But he also found the idea of it exciting._

Having an unexpected impulse to touch him, the Doctor reached up to trace his fingertips across his face, lingering there for a while, on his cheeks.

“How many people have you killed?” The Master murmured, close to his ear.

“What?” The Doctor asked, breathlessly, hoping he had misheard him.

“Did you ever count?”

 _Gallifrey_. He was talking about Gallifrey of course.

“No.” The Doctor lied.

“There were _children_ on Gallifrey.”

“Yes.”

The Master kissed him on the lips, eagerly for a few moments, before pulling away to stare at him, both breathing heavily.

“Your children.” He said, leaning down to mouth his neck, “My children.” He added, and very oddly, smiling.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor uttered. He was sorry - but words couldn’t do justice.

The Doctor shuddered, as he nipped his skin ever so slightly. It was nice, though - the pain. He felt like he deserved it.

The Doctor was surprised when the Master pushed himself off of him to lie by his side - he had expected more. Pain or pleasure, he wasn’t sure - maybe both.

The Doctor turned his head to the side to look at him. He wasn’t smiling anymore, just staring blankly up at the ceiling.

The Doctor felt like the villain in this situation - the bad guy. The Master was just a victim. He always had been, really.

The Doctor moved closer to him, and, hesitantly, rested his head on the Master’s chest. The Master didn’t object. In fact, he began to stroke through the Doctors’s hair. _It was comforting._

_Alpha will look after you._

The Doctor shut his eyes.


	17. You Belong to Me

“Morning,” The Master murmured into the Doctor’s ear, smiling, his arm wrapped around his waist.

The Doctor’s heat seemed to be subsiding. Within the next day, it should be gone completely.

The Doctor stretched and with a small yawn and a smile, turned onto his other side so he was facing the Master. The Doctor’s smiling lips skimmed against his, playfully.

“ _Master_.” He replied, ardently, touching the Master’s chest with his fingertips - so fascinated by this simple action. So focused and engrossed by it.

“I’ve decided to gift you today.”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor asked, looking up at him a little nervously now.

“If all goes well today, you’ll be seeing the handsome Captain Jack.” He said, ironically.

The Doctor didn’t believe him. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up. Besides, did he really want to see Jack anymore? What would he say to him? The only thing he had left to say was that he was sorry. Sorry for everything.

“Right.” The Doctor said, quietly.

“What do you say?”

“...Thank you?” He said, “ _Master_.” He added.

“The day’s going well already.” He said, cheerfully, kissing him on the forehead.

“What do I do today?” The Doctor asked, calmly, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“You play along, and you please me.” The Master said, simply, getting out of bed.

He began to get dressed and the Doctor watched him. “What do I wear?” The Doctor asked, glancing at his pile of clothing on the floor. The buttons on his shirt were all broken.

“ _Nothing_.” The Master said, with a smirk. The Master was about to burst out laughing, just from the look on the Doctor’s face. He was as white as a sheet. “I’m _kidding_!” He said, breaking into raucous laughter, he was bent up double. “Here.” He said, chucking him some clothes.

The Doctor took the clothes, defensively, and stood up. He froze, as the Master stared at him, up and down. Very obviously checking his body out. No subtlety whatsoever.

“What?”

“Would you kneel for me?” The Master asked.

Something in the back of the Doctor’s throat suddenly felt very tight. He swallowed.

“If I had to.” The Doctor said, quietly, thinking of Jack.

“Ok.” He shrugged, casually, with a large grin, “Get dressed.” He added, impatiently.

The Doctor got dressed quickly.

“Perfect.” The Master said, “Put this on.”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped slightly. He was holding up a collar. An actual collar. Like he was some sort of pet.

“I-“

“I thought you said you’d please me...” He said innocently, with a fake frown, “It’d be a shame if Captain Jack didn’t get to see his hero.”

“It’s fine.” The Doctor said, with gritted teeth, holding his hand out to take the collar, begrudgingly, “I don’t have a choice anyway.”

“You’re learning!” He said, sounding impressed, as though a toddler in front of him had just learned how to walk. “I’ll take it off once we’re finished - for another time. Now, _kneel_.”

The Doctor hesitated for a fraction of a second. Nobody would notice it, except the Master. He sank to his knees, and kept his eyes on the Master’s feet. “Look at me.” The Master said, softly, tilting the Doctor’s chin up to look into his eyes.

This was so unlike the Doctor. It was breaking him, and the Master loved that. Bewitching - he thought, looking down at him. How much longer could the Doctor hold on to what made him ‘the Doctor’?

Painfully slowly, the Master wrapped the collar around his neck and clicked it shut. The Doctor blinked. “I’m going to keep you on a leash, by my feet, all day. And you are going to be... _so splendid_.” He whispered, smiling. “I’m going to televise it. So Martha Jones can see who you really belong to. Not to Earth - not to those pathetic little humans. _Me_. You belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to the humans.” He said, viciously, “It’s called friendship. I protect the Earth, because I love them. Something you can’t comprehend anymore.” He hadn’t meant to say ‘anymore’. No... He had just made himself more vulnerable.

The Master stared at him, impassively, like he could see through him. There was no anger there. No sorrow. No joy. He could just... see him. The Doctor couldn’t hold eye contact with him any longer. He looked away. “ _Good_.” The Master said, satisfied by his submittal.

The Master brought him to the conference room, which at this point was basically the Master’s throne room. He was sat down on a red, velvet cushion, as though he were some sort of prized pet, and the Master sat next to him in his seat of state, the Doctor’s leash on his wrist.

The day was passing by in a bit of a blur. The Doctor felt detached, as he blankly watched the soldiers and slaves of Earth bowing down to the Master, fulfilling his every wish.

The Doctor was awoken from his sad day dream when he felt a sharp, painful tug on his leash, and a hand gripping into his hair. “You will learn to love your Master’s attention.” He whispered, sharply and dangerously. The Doctor winced, as the Master continued tugging on his hair, harshly, as he teased his fingers through it. “You are _so_ lucky. Anyone here would kill to be in your position.” He spat.

“Sorry, Master.” He said, hastily, thinking of Jack. He cringed at the number of people in the room who would have heard him say that.

The Master continued to talk at the soldiers, and the Doctor immediately let his mind wonder away from this situation. He couldn’t bare to listen to it. He desperately wanted to be somewhere else, in his mind. He tried to look mildly attentive, by watching the person whose mouth was moving at the time.

Hours later, he could see it was getting dark outside. “Doctor.” He looked up at the Master, expectantly. “Are you going to put on your best performance?” The Master whispered into his ear, as he moved the Doctor into position in front of the camera.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good boy.”


	18. A Good Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit darker than the others. Trigger warning! 
> 
> Not graphic or anything though. Things are described simply.

The Doctor looked up at him attentively, on his knees, as the Master spoke to the camera, just as the Master had instructed.

“Isn’t that right, Doctor?” He heard the Master say. He had no idea what he was even talking about - he had let his mind roam elsewhere.

“Yes, Master.” He replied. This had to be good. He had to please the Master. He had already got this far...

The Doctor titled his head, with a pointed look at the Master’s lap, asking for permission to sit there. He gave a small nod.

He climbed up onto the Master’s lap, slowly, maintaining eye contact with him. The Doctor wetted his lips, and he could now feel the Master’s erection digging into his thigh. Perfect.

He began to kiss the Master’s neck, his hands crawling across the Master’s body of their own accord. His kisses became more frantic. He didn’t know why. He shouldn’t have been getting into this, it was meant to just be for Jack, but nevertheless, he was. And it was phenomenal.

One of the Master’s arms wrapped around him, resting on his lower back. His head turned slightly, and the Doctor caught his lips with his own, kissing hard and deeply. He moaned, as the Master’s tongue immediately slipped inside his mouth. He felt embarrassed for a moment. He hadn’t even meant to make that noise, it wasn’t part of the performance.

The Master’s fingernails scraped down the Doctor’s back, and he could feel the Master now smiling into their kiss.

He broke this kiss, to bring his attention to the Master’s chest. He kissed all of the visible space, hungrily, and the Master leaned back on his chair, relaxing into it.

His hands jumped towards the top of his shirt, to try and undo some buttons. Realising what he was doing, the Master put a firm hand on top of his for him to stop.

“I think that’s enough for now.” The Master smirked. He stood up abruptly, the Doctor falling off him and only just managing to get his feet on the ground before his knees. He strode over towards the camera, and will a small beep, a red light went off. “It wasn’t live.” The Master said, calmly, “I had no idea whether I could trust you not to just encourage Martha Jones.”

The Doctor sighed. The Master now had an extremely incriminating recording of him. But at least it hadn’t been live. Perhaps he could bargain with the Master - get him to delete it. At least it was a possibility now. “What’s wrong?”

The Doctor didn’t know how he could possibly answer. So many things were wrong.

The Master beamed at the Doctor, before skipping up to him, and scooping him up into his arms with a twirl. (Time Lords had far superior strength to humans. Picking up the Doctors’s weight was easy).

The Doctor wanted to protest at being picked up for a moment, but then decided it was best to keep quiet.

The Doctor’s hands were shaking a little from earlier, as he gripped onto the Master’s shoulders. The adrenaline and the arousal hadn’t gone away yet, and being in his arms did not help either. He needed time on his own, he needed to recover, he -

“I think I’m going to fuck you now, Doctor.” He said, lightly, as though he were deciding which meal to have on a menu. So vulgar. The Doctor winced slightly.

With a massive grin, the Master carried the Doctor out of the room, bridal style. The Doctor didn’t object... somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was still hoping to see Jack.

The Master slammed his back onto the mattress with force, pinning him down with his own body. “Oh... this is dreamy.” He said, silkily, his hands slithering across the Doctor as he admired him from above.

The Doctor held his breath slightly with tension, as the Master scattered sharp kisses across his neck and face. His teeth pulled and nipped the Doctor’s skin. Surely there would be marks by now. He seemed animalistic, hungry - frustrated. “Lovely performance by the way,” He said, sarcastically, smirking uncontrollably, “It was almost as if it wasn’t a performance at all! Like you actually wanted to be _fucked_ by your Master on live television-? And your heats over as well? What a needy little omega...” He giggled, maniacally.

“Master.” He hissed, teeth gritted, “You’re hurting me.”

He was biting and scratching the Doctor’s skin, his fingers were digging deep into his shoulders blades, painfully. “ _Hush_.” He whispered, in a playful voice, “If you want to be fucked by me, you’re gonna have to let me do it _my way_.” He said, slowly, as though he were explaining something incredibly basic to a child.

“ _Jack_ -“ The Doctor tried to say, before the Master hit him on the face, hard. The Doctor felt blood trickle from his nostril to his chin, as he tried to steady his shaky breathing. The Master was also breathing heavily, glaring down at him.

“Are you trying to disobey me?” The Master whispered, roughly.

“ _No_.” The Doctor breathed, and just like that, like the flick of a switch, the Master seemed completely and utterly at ease, and happy once again.

“You were complaining a lot.” He said, with a small shrug, wiping some of the blood off the Doctor’s face with the edge of the duvet. “Had to be sure.” He grinned. “Mmm.” He paused, looking the Doctor’s face over, which was now smeared with blood, “The red looks good on you.” He bit his lower lip, gazing down at the Doctor. “Turn over.” He said, sharply.

“ _What_?” The Doctor asked, anxiously.

“You heard me.”

The Doctor took one last troubled look at the Master, before turning onto his front. The Master’s hands went underneath him to undo the fly of his trousers. He pulled his trousers and boxers off completely in a matter of seconds, and the Doctor had to shut his eyes, unable to associate with his surrounding any longer. He had to get away from here, he had to distract himself - be _anywhere but here._

He felt the Master’s hard erection poke against his rear. He gasped, as the Master pushed his way in. There was too much friction. It was incredibly painful. It wouldn’t have got in at all if it weren’t for the the little pre-cum and spit the Master had applied.

His body convulsed ever so slightly, shuddering at the agony of it. He whimpered, muffling his face as best he could into the cushion.

“Shh, it’s okay.” The Master whispered, soothingly. Except it was hardly soothing enough - he was in a lot of pain. “You’ll like it once you get used to it. You’ll thank me.”

He began to thrust in and out of him, first, slowly and painfully, but soon, faster and harder. Each thrust was beginning to hit a spot deep inside the Doctor, which made him keen and sigh.

“ _Oh_ ,” The Doctor moaned, gripping tightly onto the sheets. The Master groaned, pounding into him even harder. The Doctor’s legs were trembling, as he felt the rapture rise to unbearable, astounding levels. He needed a release, desperately. He moaned louder and more frequently, and this seemed to spur the Master on.

Just when he thought he couldn’t bear out any longer, the release happened. He cried out, jerking and shaking uncontrollably. The Master continued pushing in and out of him for a few moments afterwards, until he also came. He moaned and slumped on top of him, also unable to continue. Completely spent.

Eventually, the Master rolled of him and onto the space beside him on the bed. The Doctor was still on his front, his chest rising and falling against the mattress. There were tears in his eyes. He felt... sad. But also strangely blissful.

“You earned your reward.” The Master said, surprisingly softly, moving closer, his body slotting up perfectly against the Doctor’s back. “Do you want to see Jack?” He asked, tracing a long finger across the Doctor’s shoulder.

The Doctor didn’t think he could bear seeing Jack anymore. Not after everything that had just happened.

“No.” The Doctor said, quietly, his voice cracking a little. “I can’t.” He whispered.

The Doctor only hoped he would be allowed to see him tomorrow, or some other day, when he was ready.


	19. Blood in The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning. Again, this chapter is dark like the last one. But not too graphic, compared to the majority of writers on this website. 
> 
> The Doctor’s dealing with a feeling of ‘uncleanliness’ and being ‘dirtied’ by the Master’s behaviour and actions towards him. Definitely has hints of Non-con. It’s complicated.
> 
> Don’t read if you don’t want to. This summary at the top is enough to continue understanding the story.

The Doctor didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop his brain from chattering away. He glanced at the Master. He seemed to be sleeping just fine.

The Doctor wondered if he could take a walk. Would the Master mind? He didn’t see why not, but the Master could be incredibly unpredictable sometimes.

The Doctor sat up. The Doctor watched as the Master stirred a little in his sleep, seemingly moving into a more comfortable position.

The Doctor touched his face, and remembered the dried blood there. He tip-toed out of bed and shut the door to the bathroom quietly behind him.

There was a large mirror, which the Doctor immediately used to look at himself with. He didn’t look like his normal self. He still had that ghastly collar around his neck for one thing.

The Doctor switched the sink tap on, dampened a towel, and began wiping the dry blood off his face with it. Once he was satisfied, he put the towel down and looked at his own reflection again.

There were visible bruises and marks across his chest and neck. His hair was all ruffled, in a rather flattering way. But nothing could hide the fact - he looked, completely and utterly, exhausted. Wiping the blood off his face couldn’t fix that. At least the Master hadn’t broken his nose.

The Doctor climbed back into bed, and noticed the Master’s eyes were open, observing him, softly. The Doctor lay on his side, so they were facing each other, and continued to gaze at the Master, blinking a lot in the dim light.

The Master had hurt him a lot. Not the physical pain, no - he could manage that easily. It was the emotional pain that his oldest friend caused him.

Everything the Doctor had done that day had been for Jack - to see Jack again. But the Master had made him feel so disgusting, and now the Doctor couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Jack’s face again. His only real friend on the ship, and he couldn’t even look at him.

Images of himself, climbing onto the Master’s lap, touching him, so frantically, kept flashing before his eyes. He had felt reckless, angry and desperate.

He wanted love again. He wanted the joy of escaping and exploring the universe once again. But all he had in that instance, had been the Master. He had wanted the Master - right there and then. He had wanted everything from him - his excitement and lust and chaos. He had even wanted his approval. He had wanted the Master to touch him too, want him as well, and he did - he always did.

He wished his brain would stop going over it. It would be a relief to actually fall asleep some time.

The Doctor realised they had both been staring at each other for the last couple of minutes. The Doctor looked away, breaking the rather intense eye contact, his eyes instead resting upon the Master’s chest.

The Doctor must have fallen asleep at some point. He awoke abruptly, jolting upright with a gasp of shock. He relaxed very quickly, realising it was only the Master’s touch which had awoken him. He had been stroking his face, and he continued doing so as the Doctor lay down again.

He felt uneasy towards the way he had behaved around the Master recently. Perhaps it was the hopelessness he felt from being a prisoner that caused it, but he had been very chaotic, recently. Not in a Doctor typical way of chaos, but something impulsive and reckless, unstable and dangerous, and most of all, selfish. He was a prisoner here, and yet he was earning the Master’s approval just so he could sleep with him, and eat with him. Just so he could have some sort of a life which wasn’t being in chains.

Whereas, down below, Captain Jack Harkness was in chains, being tortured daily - and he was as much a prisoner as the Doctor! The Doctor was using the Master’s despicable system, whereas Jack was not - Jack most definitely hadn’t even been given the option to stay with the Master in return for his good behaviour. The Master wanted humanity and Jack to be in endless pain. Whereas all he wanted from the Doctor, was power over him. The Master wanted to be the Master. He adored having the Doctor as a pathetic play-thing, or whatever he was. The Doctor was yielding, submitting to him - being exactly what the Master wanted him to be. And the worst thing was, it felt strangely natural to the Doctor. It felt easy and comfortable.

How he had ended up on his knees on the floor for the Master, he had no idea.

“Open.”

The Doctor parted his lips for the Master to push his prick into his mouth.

The Doctor inhaled deeply through his nose, preparing himself.

The Master gripped onto a handful of the Doctor’s hair, sharply, guiding him to take more of the Master into his mouth.

The Doctor’s mouth worked the Master more fervently, finding himself excited and invigorated by the Master’s sighs and moans of content.

“Oh, Doctor...” He said, approvingly, still gripping and pulling onto his hair tightly, “Your mouth feels so good.”

The Doctor felt a powerful sting of involuntary arousal shoot through him. He moaned quietly, the sound muffled by his own work.

Very quickly, the Master came in his mouth, grunting and thrusting desperately. The Doctor gagged. “Don’t spit it out.” The Master commanded.

Not knowing what to do, the Doctor began to swallow the warmth gushing down his throat. “Such a good boy...” He cooed, stroking the Doctor’s hair. “Do you like that?” He asked, fondly, as the Doctor finished his last gulps. The Master pulled out of his mouth, and the Doctor was relieved. He could breath properly now. “Perhaps I could feed you on my pleasure from now on?” He said, looking down at the Doctor. The Doctor hastily licked up any of the Master’s remaining seed. Gazing up at the Master, he finished up, cleaning his lips with one slow, tantalising lick and a smile. The Master couldn’t keep his eyes off him now, and the Doctor’s hearts fluttered delightfully, in response. Since when had he liked the Master’s attention? It had always been the other way round, hadn’t it?

The Doctor’s eyes flickered towards the Master’s feet, and decided to stay there, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of making eye contact with him now.

“Perfect.” The Master said to him, fondling with the Doctor’s hair.

The Doctor heard a zip being done up. The Master bent down a little to peck him on the lips, but as he attempted pulled away, the Doctor followed his lips, hungrily, leaning in closer to kiss him some more. The Master moved away from him, with a smirk, and put on his jacket, striding towards the door to leave. The Doctor was still in his kneeling position.

“What do I do?” The Doctor asked, quietly, just as he opened the door to leave.

“You just stay here, looking as gorgeous as ever.” He said, affectionately, with that striking smile, staring at him with those piercing, depthless eyes...

The Doctor heard the door shut. He had gone. He was alone again.

The Doctor was sat in his kneeling position for a few minutes, before deciding to get up. He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at his feet. He didn’t have any shoes on. He wasn’t wearing a top either, only some boxers and trousers.

Suddenly feeling unclean, the Doctor got up and went into the bathroom. He didn’t bother shutting the door behind him. He leaned over to the shower’s control and switched the hot water on. He shucked off his trousers and boxers, and stepped into the shower. He used whatever soap he could find - scrubbing at his body excessively. He could have been in there for over an hour.

He got out of the shower, and immediately went to brush his teeth. He wanted to get rid of the taste in his mouth - the taste of him. He spat out the toothpaste, and rinsed his mouth with water several times, before proceeding to use mouthwash. He swirled it around his mouth, before spitting it out and taking another mouthful of it, and subsequently spitting it out again.

He walked out of the bathroom, and into the bedroom again, pausing at the Master’s set of drawers to take out some fresh clothing. He put them on, then flopped onto the bed with a sigh, his arms outstretched, his body feeling oddly weak.


	20. You Drive Me Crazy

He felt empty and numbed. The pleasure had been _good_ , at the _time_. But the high had worn off, and now he was only left with his _misery_.

He longed for something to do, something to keep himself preoccupied with. He wanted an adventure, some excitement - a _connection_. He just wanted _something_ to _happen_. The Master had told him to stay here. He assumed that meant in this very room, and he had followed that command all day. The Doctor thought there was hardly any point in disobeying him, especially over such a trivial matter.

He found himself just waiting, restlessly, for the Master to return. On his return, the Doctor would actually have a purpose again, here, as a prisoner on this ship.

_He was the powder and the Master was the fuse. The spark that lit the explosion._

He needed him. He had _never_ needed him before. But now, having to live with this monotonous routine, the Master was the closest thing the Doctor had to his old life, when he was travelling the stars.

 _Jack_. The thought popped into his head, to his disappointment. He hadn’t wanted to think about Jack. He had wanted to forget all about his efforts to see Jack again yesterday, because he didn’t want to see him anymore. What good would it do? Or maybe that was the question the Doctor asked himself as a coward’s way out? _He didn’t want to face Jack._ He didn’t want Jack to see him like this. It was as if Jack would be able to see everything the Doctor had done with the Master in the last couple of weeks. And how much the Doctor had actually liked it, at times. The Master - the man who had been torturing Jack everyday, for months and months. The man who had destroyed Earth, and killed so, so many.

What had he been thinking? Well, he knew he he had been feeling. He had been reckless, and stupid and angry, and _lascivious_...

The _recording_. That came to the Doctor’s mind also. He would really like the Master to delete that. So how could he persuade the Master?

Hours later, the Master returned. The Doctor sat up to look at him. He looked extremely tense. His jaw was clenched, clearing gritting his teeth hard. He threw his jacket off, carelessly, as he strode across the room. He reached the drink cabinet, and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. He drank it all in only a few gulps.

“Bad day?” The Doctor asked, ironically, as he lay back on the bed again, ostentatiously spread out before the Master.

The Master didn’t respond. He looked annoyed for a second. But then his eyes eyes were scanning the Doctor over, hungrily, a hint of a smile on his face. He poured himself another glass.

The Doctor stood up, abruptly, and walked over, purposefully brushing past the Master, to pour himself a drink too. He drank it slowly, watching the Master carefully.

The Master raised an eyebrow, “Help yourself to my drinks then.”

“ _Thanks_.” The Doctor replied, with a great big, flashy, fake grin, most unlike his own, before taking another swig. Disgusting, the Doctor thought, as his throat burned from it. He swallowed, and quietly put the drink down. “The recording.” He said, tentatively. “I’d like you to delete it. I don’t want to see Jack anymore. The deal’s off.”

“You don’t want to see him?” The Master smirked, taking another sip from his drink. “Well, that _is_ an _interesting_ development.”

The Doctor waited patiently, trying not to show any of the anxiety he was feeling. “But why would I delete it? It’s such a _lovely_ video!” He said, “Plus, it’s the perfect tool to keep you in line, should you ever decide to disobey me.”

“You have other ways in controlling me. Hurting my friends, for instance. You dont need the video.”

“Yes. But _I want_ the video. So, _end_ of discussion.” The Master growled.

The Doctor swallowed. He could definitely feel rage and upset rising inside him now. He wanted a release.

So, what am I, to _you_?” The Doctor asked, an air of casualty in his voice, despite the vicious smile. “One of your _pets_?”

“ _Oh yes,_ ” he said, with a delicious giggle, as he put his drink down, “But you are... my _favourite_.” He said, silkily.

“Oh, I bet I am.” He answered, sharply, his eyes resting on the Master’s lips, smugly.

The Doctor could feel it. He was having an effect on him. Any moment now, the Master was going to lose it - touch him or grab him or kiss him. The thought of denying him of that gave the Doctor a little thrill.

“What put you in such a bad mood today?” The Doctor asked, abruptly, turning around and walking a few steps away from the Master. He could sense the Master’s irritation and impatience - his tension, at the Doctor’s sudden withdrawal.

“Humans.” The Master said, through gritted teeth.

“Ah, yes... Not doing as they’re told, I presume?”

“They’re easy to deal with.” The Master snapped, before he was pouncing on the Doctor, pushing him onto the bed - pinning him beneath him, “Unlike you.” The Master said, with a wickedly handsome grin.

The Doctor was breathing heavily, staring up at the Master grinning down at him. His smile was very appealing. Vaguely, the Doctor thought he would look even nicer with his shirt buttons undone. The Master was _so alluring_ , like this, dominating him. For once, the Master had won - not him. It was strange, and yet, _phenomenal_.

The Master chuckled, “You _like_ this?”

The Doctor cringed. The Master had heard his thoughts - he hadn’t maintained a barrier. The Master had slipped into his mind without him even realising.

The Doctor shut his eyes, attempting to build up a mental wall up again. But it was almost impossible to focus with the Master’s touch. His fingertips were stroking neat lines across his collarbones. His hands were making their way softly down the length of his arms. “You don’t need to shut me out,” the Master hummed.

Deciding he didn’t have the strength to do it anyway, with a sigh, the Doctor released his hold of keeping up a mental barrier, and let it crumble before them. The Master pounced on the opportunity immediately, delving deep inside his head. “There’s some... interesting stuff... in here,” the Master said, in between lazy, heavy kisses on the Doctor’s neck and shoulders, pulling his shirt aside to reach more skin.

This needs to stop, the Doctor thought, panicking slightly. He knew he should have been telling the Master to stop. Tell him no. But it seemed he was incapable of forming those simple words. He moaned instead, as the Master nipped on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, wrapping his legs around the Master’s waist, greedily - pulling him in closer. He had been alone all day and it felt so good to have some company. He didn’t want the Master to ever leave. Never mind the recording. He just wanted him.

“Master?” He asked, as the Master continued necking him, vigorously.

“ _Mhm_?”

“Please give me something to do during the day.” He pleaded, “You’re driving me crazy.” He said, tugging at the Master’s shirt, so several of the buttons broke off.

“But I like that.” The Master replied, smoothly, pulling away for a few moments to smirk down at him, before giving him one last peck on the lips and moving off him. He lay down on the bed next to the Doctor, with a small, content sigh.

The Doctor turned onto his side to look at him. There was a seemingly, unremovable smile on his face, as he gazed up at the ceiling, reminiscently. The Doctor wished he could wipe that smile off his face.

“You liked this morning then?”

“Yes,” The Master said, turning onto his side to face the Doctor, so they could look at each other, eye-to-eye, “You were very good.” He said, silkily, his fingertips brushing fondly over the Doctor’s cheek. “What did you do today?” The Master asked, abruptly, his eyes flickering around the room like he had never even considered the things you could do in this small room.

“You mean after I catered to your _needs_?” The Doctor asked, sarcastically and snappishly, now feeling highly resentful. The two of them stilled, no longer kissing or touching each other, but watching each other carefully.

“Yes.”

“Well, first of all, I washed.” The Doctor said, simply.

“Mhm?”

“With a lot of soap and hot water, I managed to just about get _your scent off me._ ” The Doctor continued, coldly.

The Master chuckled, clearly finding the Doctor’s discontent amusing.

“I then rinsed my mouth _several times_ , and _even_ now, I _still_ haven’t gotten _rid_ of the _taste_ of _you_.”

“Why so sour, Doctor? It’s not like I forced you into anything.” He sniggered, “You loved it. We both know you did.” He hissed, “It’s not my fault you throw yourself at me - and then feel guilty about it afterwards!”

He paused, then perhaps compensating for his harsh words, moved a little closer, and rested a hand on the Doctor’s cheek, tenderly. “I told you this before.” The Master continued, more softly, closing his eyes, as though it were painful to think about, “ _I don’t want you like this._ I don’t want you to _be like this._ ” He whispered, “I want you to just be happy and comfortable with the life I’ve given you. And if you can’t do that... Well, _I might as well_ put you back in the dog bed. I’ll age you again as well, whilst I’m at it. See how you like it, all _miserable_ and _decrepit_ once again.”

The Master’s hand was still on the Doctor’s cheek, stroking delicately with his thumb. It was pacifying - but not in a nice way. It felt like the Master was controlling him. _And he was._ “Now,” the Master said, in a business like tone, “Are you going to apologise to your Master, for all of that ungrateful talk?” As with most of his commands, it was casual, but authoritative. He had absolutely no need to raise his voice or change his inflection to make people obey him. “Or would you prefer it if I cut Tish’s feet off? Or, I could nuke Japan, if you prefer?”

“You already bombed Japan. Last week.” The Doctor said, flatly.

“Ah, yes! Funny - the things that escape your mind!” He chuckled, heartily. “Now, what’s it to be, my beloved?”

The Doctor waited for as long as he could. A few seconds, until the silence became unbearable - the prospect of other people being harmed for his refusal to apologise.

Also, there was another thing... It wasn’t that the Doctor was afraid of sleeping in the dog bed. It wasn’t his comfort he was most concerned about - but his loneliness. Here, with the Master every night, he had someone to talk to, touch, connect with. To his shame, he desperately didn’t want to lose that.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor said, unusually quietly. It was a struggle to make a sound at all, especially something so self-deprecating.

“Is that it?” He laughed, absently fiddling with the Doctor’s collar.

“I’m sorry, _Master_.” He repeated, with more sincerity.

“You’re forgiven.” The Master said, putting a coaxing hand on top of his.“Doesn’t mean I won’t have to punish you though. I did promise that the next time you spoke out of line would result in a disciplining. I have to live up to my word - can’t have you under the impression that you can misbehave.” He paused. “This looks _so good_ on you. _So hot._ ” He added, tugging slightly on that horrific collar around his neck. It was _dehumanising_. Not that he was _human_ , of course. More like... _De-Time Lord-ising_ , the Doctor thought, vaguely.

“Glad you like it.” The Doctor said, tensely, sitting up to rest against the headboard, arms crossed, in a defending, closed off sort of way.

“You can expect your punishment tomorrow, or the day after... sometime.” The Master said, ignoring whatever the Doctor had just said. “I’m far too tired tonight, and _you’re_ far too delicious.” He said, one hand creeping up the length of the Doctor’s arm, spider-like.

The Doctor glanced towards the Master. Then looked away. He had the desire to roll his eyes.

The Master’s fingers were now resting on the Doctor’s collarbone, tapping gently.

It would have been nice to turn onto his side, facing away from the Master. But deciding that would be too far, (Tish’s arms _and_ legs would probably be cut off), the Doctor decided to just lay on his back, looking determinedly up at the ceiling - not wanting to engage in whatever the Master’s plans were tonight.

His eyes flickered towards the Master for a brief moment. His hand was still on the Doctor, but he didn’t seem to be proceeding any further without permission. The Doctor sighed, quietly, a little relieved. His head rolled to the side, into a more comfortable position, which happened to be facing the Master.

_He shut his eyes._


	21. Sweet Rose

The Master watched as the Doctor’s breathing gradually slowed down completely, until he was fast asleep.

He had spent a lot of nights like this - watching the Doctor sleep. It was relaxing.

The Doctor had dreams. Nightmares. 

The Master was tempted to take a peek into the Doctor’s head. He could do it without the Doctor even noticing. He had managed it several nights in a row now. He always had been a skilled telepath. 

The Doctor’s dreams were... (to be put lightly), complicated. It was even difficult for the Master to decipher them. 

The Master now knew about a someone, named Rose. One of his human companions. She was so ordinary. Unimportant. Not remotely special, and yet, the Doctor loved her. But she was gone. The Master wasn’t sure where. She certainly could have been dead. 

This ‘love’ the Doctor had felt towards her. It was a weak, primeval desire. It brought him comfort, and security. She made him happy. 

It was love, yes, in one of its forms. But such a human, primitive form. Nothing compared to the real complexity of the Doctor. Nothing compared to what him and the Doctor shared. Their love wasn’t comforting, or happy - their love was extraordinarily challenging, and painful and powerful. 

Violence sharply interrupted his thoughts. An image in his head - smothering the Doctor with his love until it killed him. He wanted to kiss the Doctor to death. He could imagine it, right now. 

Right now. He could kill him right now.

The Master watched his chest rise and fall, breathing steadily. He had a strong urge to put a stop to that. Asphyxiate him. Watch the life in his panicked eyes dull, and fade away into nothingness. 

But only a fantasy, the Master assured himself. He didn’t want to kill the Doctor.

He had the Doctor right where he wanted him. What would be the point in killing him? The Master smiled at that thought. 

He lay there, admiring the Doctor. The Doctor, the most wondrous creature in the universe, under his fingertips. Completely under the Master’s control, where he should be. 

He was made for the Master - made for the Master to find and take. 

He had won - the Master had actually won, finally. And now, the torment ends. The Master had earned his rightful place, and the Doctor could be pleased for him. 

The Master put a protective arm over the Doctor’s waist, softly as to not wake him. He caressed the Doctor’s bare skin, lightly with the pad of his thumb. 

The Doctor’s eyes calmly fluttered open, awoken by the Master’s gentle, continuous strokes. He shut his eyes again soon, revelling in the delightful feeling. He couldn’t even remember why he had been angry at the Master earlier. He didn’t care either, so he wasn’t going to try and recall it. He just wanted to savour this moment. 

His mood, and feelings towards the Master, had been changing so erratically recently. The Doctor made a note of that to himself. Was he going mad? One moment he felt so angry and ashamed and hateful and the next -

“Maybe I could see Jack.” The Doctor whispered, into the dark. 

“Mmm,” The Master murmured, tiredly, “You could. If you wanted. The option is still there for you, of course. You earned it.” He said, giving him a heavy, velvety kiss on the lips. The Doctor reciprocated, opening his mouth and lolling into the kiss. 

“What about now?” The Doctor asked in a hurry, breaking the kiss to speak. 

“Really? Now? Oh... I’m tired. Aren’t you?” He sighed back. 

The Doctor only slept to make time go faster on this hell ship. 

“Whatever you want.” The Doctor replied, quietly. 

“Mm, yesss.” He hissed, ”That’s a good boy.” He said, adoringly, planting a small kiss on the Doctor’s nose. 

The next morning, the Doctor awoke at about the same time as the Master. 

The Master smiled sleepily at the Doctor, stretching his arms out. The Doctor’s first reaction was to smile back, as if out of politeness. His smile faded quickly as he remembered everything. But the Master didn’t notice. 

The Doctor watched the Master hop out of bed, happily, like he did every morning. As though he were excited, about the day to come. The Doctor felt even more low-spirited, imagining how happy the Master felt everyday to wake up to his kingdom of human slaves. 

“I want you to be by my side today.” The Master said, as he slipped his shirt on, “I miss your company.”

The Doctor sat up. It was the best news he had heard in a while. At least he would be even remotely doing something, today. Even if it was just sitting at the Master’s feet all day. 

Turns out, that’s exactly what it was. 

He had that degrading, ugly collar around his neck all day, as he sat at the Master’s feet, or performed any other stupid, circus tricks the Master desired. 

At one point, the Master told him to dance with him, to a waltz, interrupting whatever was being discussed in that military meeting. The slaves and soldiers of humanity in the room watched them, clearly a little dazed by the scene in front of them. They were confused, for sure. But not surprised. The Master truly was a madman in their eyes. A dangerous one. An unbeatable one, who happened to be completely enthralled by the Doctor. No one would dare get in the way of the two of them. 

Towards the end of the day, the Master was sat there, in silence. This was a common reoccurrence. He would just stop whatever he was doing and truly, just think, for hours at a time. The Doctor could relate. The Doctor could hear the light scratch of a pen across paper. He was writing something, or drawing something maybe. 

It was nice to just be able to sit there quietly with him. There was no one else in the room, so for once, it felt like the Doctor wasn’t being judged by humankind for his association with the Master. 

Besides, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. Did he? 

But the Doctor’s neck and back were beginning to ache from being sat on just a cushion on the floor all day. He had probably been hunching his back slightly through the shame of it all, which would explain the back pain.

He leaned his weight against the Master’s legs a little, testing boundaries carefully. Deciding it was more comfortable to rest his back then continue sitting up straight, the Doctor began to relax, until he was fully slumped, pleasantly leaning against the Master.


	22. Captain Jack Harkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been teasing Jack and the Doctors meeting for a while. So here it is. It goes badly.

“Hello.” The Doctor was stirred from his doze as the Master ruffled his fingers through the Doctor’s hair.

“Master?”

“I remember you asking to see Jack last night.”

“Yes?” He asked, calmly, hiding his hopefulness.

“Would you still like to do that?”

“Yes.” He replied, his voice coming out more quietly than he had intended.

“Okay, then. You earned it. I’m not unreasonable. I’m a good Master to you, aren’t I?” He asked, softly, tilting the Doctor’s head slightly to look up at him.

“ _Yes_.” He said, for the third time. He swallowed, nervously. He did not want to displease him, as he really wanted to see Jack.

“However, I do also remember my promise to punish you last night, for your incessant retorts and backchat.”

The Doctor kept quiet. Maybe he wasn’t going to see Jack after all.

“Let’s combine your punishment and reward together, hm?” He said, with a large, sardonic grin. “That’ll be interesting, won’t it?”

So... he was seeing Jack?

That question was answered when they reached the large, combination-locked door. The one the Doctor had tried to break into weeks ago and failed.

With a swipe of the Master’s touch, the door opened. They walked down a long corridor and a flight of stairs before reaching the engine room. Yes, this was where the Doctor was told he would find Jack.

The Master took his hand, surprisingly gently, and led him onwards. The Doctor didn’t refuse his hand.

And then he saw him. _Jack_. He was unconscious, suspended by chains holding his wrists and ankles. He looked dreadful. There was a lot of blood, on him and the floor around him. He was extremely pale, looking close to death, seemingly because of all the blood he had lost. The Doctor could see where his skin had been gashed, then healed by Jack’s undying body, over and over again. He was covered in wounds, that looked nasty - infected maybe.

The Doctor couldn’t help but stare at Jack, _transfixed_ by how his friend had changed since he last saw him. He was no longer the smiley Jack the Doctor had got to know. Even in his sleep, Jack looked hopeless. Disconsolate.

The Doctor noticed a fair few guards surrounding them. The Master had clearly upped the security for the Doctor’s arrival.

“ _What have you done?_ ” The Doctor asked, horrified, unable to meet the Master’s eyes. He didn’t want to see the darkness there. He wanted to continue pretending he could redeem his friend, save him.

He had the distinct impression the Master was smiling, finding the Doctor’s horror most entertaining. But he couldn’t bear to look at him to find out.

The Master strolled over to the corpse of Jack, a happy, renewed bounce in his step.

“ _Jack!_ ” He sang, tapping him on the face, “You have a visitor!” Jack didn’t seem to be waking up. The Doctor gritted his teeth, feeling more and more anxious by the second. “Jack?” He repeated, before slapping him on the face, hard. The Doctor winced.

Jack seemed to be waking up now. His eyes fluttered open, and immediately darted onto the Doctor, ignoring the Master completely.

“Doctor?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse. The Doctor wondered if it was hoarse because of all the screaming. He had clearly been inflicted a lot of pain.

“Jack.” He replied, quietly, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jack inhaled, sharply, and the Doctor withdrew his hand, quickly. “Sorry.” The Doctor murmured. He must have touched one of Jack’s sensitive injuries.

Jack smiled, and the Doctor felt his hearts ache even more. Jack had smiled for him, to reassure him, make him happy. Even in this terrible situation, Jack was still so loyal to the Doctor.

“I am so sorry.” The Doctor, repeated, looking over Jack’s beaten body again.

“‘ _S-_ okay” He replied, still smiling, his voice slightly slurred. “I’m just- glad to see you.”

“Me too.” The Doctor said, his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

“How long has it been?” He asked, casually, as though they were discussing something over tea and biscuits.

“Uh,” the Doctor was not sure exactly. Normally, his sense of time was accurate to the nano-second. But all of this time, spent in this place... It had done something to him.

“Six months.” He heard the Master say over his shoulder.

The Doctor shut his eyes, not wanting to see any pain in Jack’s eyes as they both came to the realisation of how long they had bern in this hell.

The Doctor inhaled, slowly, a little shakily, his eyes opening to meet Jack’s again. The Doctor felt terrible for how long he had put off seeing Jack. He hadn’t wanted to accept this terrible truth, and now he was forced to.

“You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine.” The Doctor said, earnestly, a weak smile on his lips, now trying to smile for Jack, just he had done so for him.

The Doctor had most definitely not been treated like Jack had. Jack had been tortured. If anything, the Doctor had actually had quite a luxurious life for the last few months. The Doctor hadn’t been harmed, physically, at all.

The Doctor looked back at the Master.

Two minutes, he cast into the Doctor’s head. There was a sense of irritation in the Master’s tone. He got the sense the Master didn’t like the Doctor talking to anyone else. And he hadn’t, for months, not until more.

The Doctor quickly turned back to Jack, not wanting to waste his final two minutes with him.

“Jack, I swear,” He went to reach out for him, hold his hand maybe. But stopped himself, remembering Jack’s injuries. “I will get us out of this.” He whispered, feeling very conscious of the Master who was standing right behind him.

“No. He won’t.” The Master said, sharply, grabbing the Doctor’s hand. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, dear.” He said to the Doctor, half dragging him away from Jack. The Master’s hard grip on the Doctor’s wrist was a little uncomfortable. He wanted to struggle out of his grasp, and he considered it for a moment. Instead, he let himself be pulled away. He couldn’t beat the Master, he couldn’t stop him.

The Doctor looked back at Jack, stumbling on his feet for a second as he was tugged involuntarily. Jack’s eyes were fixed on the Master’s hand on his, the Doctor could see this even from a distance.

Just as he started walking with the Master, instead of slowing him down, the Doctor heard a deafening, harrowing scream. He gasped, turning back to see what was happening. Jack was being maimed again. The guards - they were cutting into Jack’s skin, with glowing, red hot knives.

The Doctor shouted, now trying to get away from the Master - pull himself away from him. He needed to get back to Jack, he needed to help him. He couldn’t let this continue. He heard the Master laugh as he managed to get away. He sprinted towards Jack, before two men pounced on him, hauling him to the ground. The Doctor struggled, screaming in frustration as his hands were pinned behind his back and handcuffed.

“Master, _please_ -“ He panted, over Jack’s howls and shrieks, “Just stop! Hurt me instead!” He cried out. The men pulled the Doctor to his feet, expecting to be able to control him with his hands cuffed. But the Doctor was afraid, and most of all, angry. He managed to knock one of them over, before making a run towards Jack again. But the other man tripped the Doctor up, and held him down on the floor again, as the other soldier got up from the floor where the Doctor had shoved him.

“ _Don’t hurt him_.” He heard the Master say, “Just give him the shot.”

The Doctor heard some rustling, and then a needle was stabbed into his neck. He attempted to heave himself up, push the man off him, but he was already feeling the effects of whatever the Master had given him. He stopped fighting them, feeling his muscles weaken, his entire body go limp on the ground. He was pulled up by the men and realised he couldn’t stand on his own, so he had to be held up. The room was spinning and the Master looked blurry as he strolled towards him. The Master said something to him, but he couldn’t make out what. He lost track of time... One moment he was there, and the next he found himself being dragged into the Master’s bedroom.

The Doctor was placed gently onto the bed. He screwed his eyes shut, the light hurting his eyes now.

He then felt compelled to open his eyes slightly and see what was happening, as he felt the duvet being moved up to cover his body.

The Doctor wanted words to come out of his mouth, but he struggled to find them. He felt warm now, and so calm. He was slowly being sucked into an irresistible and unavoidable sleep.


	23. A Terrible Telepath

The Doctor awoke feeling very hazy. He opened his eyes, groggily, trying to work out where he was.

“Doctor. You’re awake.”

He hadn’t even noticed the Master standing in the corner of the room, and his hearts seem to skip a few beats at the sound of his voice.

He tried to sit up, wincing with a sharp intake of breath, as he felt a dull, throbbing pain in his head.

“ _Ooh_ , right, yes. There might be some side effects.” He said, moving closer, sitting on the bed. “Your body has had quite the shock.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He replied, irritably, managing to push himself up with his elbows.

The Doctor remembered a needle being inserted into his neck, just before his memories became blurry. “You drugged me?” He asked, incredulously, feeling outraged.

“You were going to hurt yourself.” The Master replied, calmly.

_Jack. He remembered._

“You were hurting Jack.” He replied, coldly.

“Entirely your fault.” He snapped, “That was your punishment, _remember_? If you’d been a nice little pet, like I’d told you to be, it would never have happened. Not that I’m angry about it,” He added, giggling, “Jack’s screams were most entertaining, and so was your hysterical, hopeless attempt at saving him.”

The Doctor tried to sit up straighter. But he felt dizzy, so just resorted to leaning against the headrest for support in staying upright.

“He’s an immortal. _Like us_.” The Doctor said, quietly, now trying to connect with any of the Master’s remaining empathy, “He cant die. You hurt him and he will be tortured by it for eternity. There’s no way out for him.”

“Well said, Doctor!” He said, with a grin, “With normal humans, you know they’ll be freed from the torment eventually. You know, they’ll die, its unavoidable - lucky bastards! Whereas, our poor, gorgeous, brave, Captain Jack Harkness... will _never_ be freed. I think that’s why I enjoy hurting him so much. Just the thought of inflicting pain upon someone for the whole of time.” He said, smiling reminiscently, as the memories of torturing Jack swam across his mind.

Listening to the Master talking was giving the Doctor a headache. _What was he even saying, anyway?_ He was finding it difficult to follow the conversation. Perhaps it was just more side effects of the drug.

He groaned, resting his head in his hands, closing his eyes for some sort of relief from the dreadful strain in his head. He couldn’t think properly. He just wanted to sleep again. He felt unusually calm about the Jack situation, and just wanted to forget it had happened. Just, sleep, rest...

The Master’s fingers were now in his hair, and it felt strangely good and comforting, “Hey...” the Master said, softly, endearingly. “You can rest now. Your punishment is over.”

The Doctor hummed in response, and nodded, somehow needing that confirmation from someone else. _Yes_ , he _could_ rest now.

He lay back down, his head landing on the pillow with a soft sigh.

The Master moved closer, to kiss the Doctor, and he responded, closing his eyes.

The Master was just about to leave, he had stood up. But the Doctor quickly grabbed onto his hand.

“Can you stay?” He asked, tiredly, his thumb and fingers tenderly stroking the Master’s hand.

The Doctor desperately wanted to feel not-alone. Never mind Jack, for now at least. He just wanted the one bit of company he could still cling onto. The only company he had left.

He saw the Master smile, before getting into bed with him. The Doctor shifted closer to him, wanting to feel another warm body next to his.

He awoke several hours later feeling strange. He turned to look at the Master, wondering why his hearts had quickened so much in such a short period time.

Then, with an annoyed sigh, he realised. He was coming on heat again. It had been a month since the last one, give or take. He had lost track of time on the Valiant.

He also wasn’t used to even having heats. He had taken suppressants his entire life. He could take one every six months to be completely free of heats. But on the forth month of his time on the Valiant, the suppressant had ran out. From now on, he was forced to endure his heats. This would be his second one on the Valiant. The Master refused to give him any suppressants. He enjoyed watching the Doctor suffer far too much.

There was one thing the Doctor knew for sure. He wasn’t going to beg for the Master’s comfort this time. He was going to suffer through his heat - alone.

The Doctor was afraid of what would happen if they were able to get together properly during his heat. Would he be able to control himself? Last time, the first time his heat had happened had happened on the Valiant, they had only had sex once it was basically over.

If they had sex now, or anytime in the next few days, there was a high chance he would be impregnated. He couldn’t have that. This thing... whatever it was... between him and the Master, was temporary. _Just until his plan with Martha Jones commenced._ Then, he would be able to get off this dreadful ship and... do whatever he was going to do with the Master. He was certainly not going to be carrying his child. Absolutely not.

The Doctor glanced at the Master, who appeared to be sleeping, before edging towards the side and slipping off the bed. He made his way into the ensuite, and washed his face with cold water, feeling a little hot and anxious.

Just as he was walking out of the ensuite, the Master grabbed him by the throat, pushing him into the wall with a loud bang.

The Doctor gasped, struggling for breath as he tried to remove the fingers around his throat.

“You are such a _terrible_ telepath...” He whispered, reverently and dangerously.

The Doctor shut his eyes, inwardly groaning as he realised what had happened. The Master hadn’t been asleep. Rather, inside his head, silently, invisibly. “So, what’s this little plan with Martha Jones, _hm_?” He added, squeezing a little tighter.

“You’re being paranoid.” The Doctor managed to get out, still struggling for air.

“ _Am I?_ ” He asked, quizzically, a mad grin on his face.

“It was just me... being hopeful. There is no plan. Nothing of any substance anyway. It was a dream - nothing more. I was making something out of nothing.”

The Master released the grip on his throat, realising that any moment now his respiratory bypass was about to kick in. Instead, he held him firmly up against the wall by the shoulders.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” The Master considered, thoughtfully, “Either way I’m still disappointed in you. I really thought you were beginning to realise that life for you here was just fine. But no... _Ignorant as ever_. Missing what’s right in front of you. Dreaming of leaving, as usual.” He hissed. “I _am_ offended, Doctor.” He said, dramatically, putting a hand on his chest, where his hearts would be, “Wanting to keep your ripe Omega body away from me?” He tutted.

The Master leaned into his neck, smelling him deeply, and the Doctor shuddered, feeling more than uncomfortable.

“So beautiful...” He muttered, tracing a finger across the Doctor’s collarbone.

“Maybe I would _want you_.” The Doctor said, indifferently, coolly, despite the hot rage burning through his veins. The Master looked up, intently, at this. The Doctor knew exactly how to keep him interested. “If you hadn’t hurt Jack.”

“Maybe you don’t have a _choice_.” The Master whispered, lowly, dangerously, his teeth grazing his neck.

The Doctor’s veins were no longer pumping full of hot rage, but ice cold fear.

“You wouldn’t...” the Doctor murmured, unsurely. There was a long silence, full of tension. Much longer than the Doctor would have liked.

Then, like nothing had happened, the Master chuckled, pushing himself out of the Doctor’s personal space with a friendly tap on his shoulder. His scary demeanour seemed to vanish immediately.

“No, Doctor. I don’t need to.” He replied, calmly. With that, he skipped over to the bed and flopped back down on it, happily. There was a smug, satisfied smile on his face as he got comfortable, his head resting in his hands, which unnerved the Doctor. “You’ll be begging for me. For my touch, my seed _inside_ of _you_.”

The Doctor stared at the Master, defiantly believing that this was simply not true. But the argument wouldn’t leave his lips. There was a small, but strong nevertheless, part of him which already believed his Alpha’s words.

_No! Stop it, Doctor! He thought. That was ridiculous... of course the Master was being absurd._

“This is your second heat not getting what your body needs.” The Master said, silkily.

_Why did his voice sound so silky now?_

“You need me.” He continued, “I can give you everything you want, my little _Omega_.”

The Doctor sighed. “No.” He replied, finally, “I don’t want it.”

He jumped off the bed, and grinned, grabbing a shirt and making his way towards the door, “You try and tell me that when you’re burning up and desperate!” He cackled, exiting and shutting the door behind him.


	24. Bitter Sweetness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definitely very obvious signs of Stockholm Syndrome in this chapter... From here it gets worse. Just a trigger warning.

It was good that the Master had left, he thought, sitting down on the bed with a small sigh. He needed to keep away from him during his heat. So far, he felt normal though. A little hot and anxious, but nothing else.

The Doctor jumped slightly, as the door suddenly swung open again, as the Master bounded back into the room,

“I almost forgot!” He giggled, “Can’t have you trying to fix your little problem by yourself. You need your Master to do that for you...”

Before the Doctor had time to react, the Master had hand-cuffed his wrists and locked them onto the bars of the headboard.

“ _What_ -“

The Master smiled in response, before pointing towards the upper corner of the room, near the ceiling. “This will be entertaining, I know. Don’t want to miss any of it!” He said, enthusiastically.

The Doctor squinted, looking where the Master was pointing, and his mouth fell open as he realised there was a camera there.

“Perception filter.” He explained with a wink.

The Doctor lay back on the bed, finding it more comfortable to rest laying down with his wrist currently cuffed to the headboard, and the Master, almost tenderly, tucked the Doctor in, covering his body with the duvet.

The Master then gave him the thumbs up, and tip-toed towards the door. “Just give me a shout when you need me!” He said, and with a slam, the door closed behind him once again.

Fine, the Doctor thought, defiantly, as he tried to move his wrists and found that they were stuck there. Even better. Now he wouldn’t be able to get up and find the Master, if he had the urge to.

Feeling a little sleepy now, he shut his eyes, just wanting to pass the time.

As he drifted asleep, he remembered Jack, screaming in agony, as the Master’s henchmen tortured him.

He was still angry at the Master - wasn’t he?

It was odd, really, because he knew he should have been feeling angry... But he didn’t much. He mainly felt sorry for Jack. He only wished he could make these next months easier for Jack.

The Doctor opened his eyes after a few hours of sleep, his head feeling slow and foggy. He felt a little ill - only so much to be mildly uncomfortable. He had a headache, and he felt hotter than he did earlier.

He squirmed a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position on the bed. His entire body felt restless, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He was on his back, staring determinedly up at the ceiling, trying to slow down his own breathing, distract himself from the constant irritation throughout his body.

It was a bit difficult to distract himself, however, when all he had to do so was to stare at his boring surroundings. He couldn’t move - he couldn’t pick up a book and read, or have a wonder about the ship. He was stuck, right here, having to face his problems head on.

He groaned, trying to move himself into a comfortable position.

 _He knew exactly what his primitive, Omega brain wanted. But he couldn’t give himself that._ He couldn’t show the Master he was uncomfortable - he didn’t want to beg.

He tried to relax on the bed, remembering that for whatever sick, perverted reason, the Master was most likely watching this all through the camera in front of him.

The Doctor felt a swell of hatred for the Master. He glared at the camera, now feeling utterly humiliated.

He was being treated like an animal. A wild, _carnal animal_ , all for the Master’s entertainment.

He felt a tear drip down his cheek as he stared at the wall to the side of him. The Doctor knew that these next few days on heat were going to be hell.

Don’t cry. The Doctor thought, determinedly. He would only be putting on a better performance for the Master.

This was ridiculous, the Doctor thought, he was a Time Lord! He was better than this... He shouldn’t be feeling like such a slave to his animal instincts. He felt ashamed of himself. But most of all, angry at the Master, for discomfiting him like this. If only he had just given him the stupid pill. On Gallifrey, he would have had an injection for every new regeneration, one which would stop the heats all together so no pills were required. But Gallifrey was long gone.

It embarrassed the Time Lords - the old, primitive systems that still existed in their biology. _Sex_. It was completely secretive. Not spoken about at all. A complete taboo. And now the Master was watching him struggle through it, probably with that smug smile on his face...

_OK, no - don’t think about that smile! He thought, quickly, his mind having wondered off to embarrassing, inappropriate thoughts and images._

The Doctor managed to fall asleep again, this time for a good few hours. He would have guessed it was the late afternoon by now, but he didn’t know for sure.

The first thing he noticed as he woke up was the sweating. The sheets felt wet now - soaked. He wriggled, now feeling far more uncomfortable than before. He was also very hot, maybe hotter than before, and his breathing should have been slower for someone resting.

He silently wished the Master would return, despite knowing that was the wrong thing to wish. He just wanted some company now. Maybe he could get his sheets changed. He desperately wanted to take a cool shower. And eat something - he was starving. He was really craving something sweet, like some fruit.

About twenty minutes later, the Doctor sighed in relief as the Master came back into the room.

“Ok, can you un-cuff me now, please? It was very funny, but joke over, alright? I need to take a shower and eat something.” The Doctor said, tensely.

The Master just smiled back at him, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach twist, almost apprehensively.

“What?” The Doctor said, staring at him.

The Master calmly walked over, and sat on the bed beside him, his hand resting where the Doctor’s knee would be under the covers. The Doctor twitched a bit, finding the physical contact kindling that unwanted blaze of desire inside of him.

“Gods... You’re _so wet_.” The Master said, taking in his form and the damp sheets onto on top of him.

“Yeah, thanks for gloating. Would you mind releasing me now?” The Doctor snapped.

Ignoring him, the Master clapped his hands together, and a nervous-looking Francine Jones entered the room, carrying a plate.

The Doctor silently cringed. Francine was seeing him in such a shameful and demeaning position. He was literally handcuffed to the Master’s bed, seemingly naked - at least with no shirt on, as only the top of his chest was visible. The Doctor just preyed she wouldn’t notice the wetness of the sheets.

Francine looked up for a brief moment, setting the plate down by the Master’s side. The Doctor averted his gaze, biting his lip anxiously.

He was glad when he heard the door shut and she was gone.

“You said you were hungry.” The Master said, picking up a piece of... sliced melon. It did look nice.

“How am I supposed to eat with no hands?” He asked, rattling the cuffs in another request to release him.

“No need.” He said, with a smile, pushing the melon towards his lips.

The Doctor hesitated, wondering whether he should object to eating out of the Master’s hand, like some dog.

The melon smelt so good though, and his stomach was empty. He suspected that if he refused eating like this he wouldn’t be fed at all.

He bit into it, and the Master seemed pleased by his decision, his grin stretching wider, as he watched the Doctor intently.

He tried to wipe his chin, as he felt some of the melon juice drip down his chin, then remembered his hands were restrained. The Master seemed to chuckle at this, before wiping it off with his own thumb, carefully.

His thumb rested on the Doctor’s chin for far too long, before sliding it upwards to rest on his lower lip. The Doctor’s eyes locked onto his, suddenly feeling trapped, like a prey animal being closed in on by its predator.

His thumb was probing gently, asking for access into his mouth.

Unthinkingly, the Doctor’s lips parted for him, and the Doctor tasted melon and salt on his finger.

The Master was humming with happiness as he slipped his finger out of the Doctor’s mouth, his lips briefly following the Master’s movement, before realising what he was doing and stopping abruptly, feeling self-conscious.

The Master giggled quietly, noticing this, and picked up another slice of melon to feed him with.

The Doctor bit into it again, closing his eyes as he registered just _how good this felt._ The melon was melting in his mouth, he hardly needed to even chew it, and there was a warm feeling, growling inside of him. This was comforting. It felt pleasurable, this simple act, eating from the Master’s fingertips. The Doctor felt closer to him, and could feel how much more so he wanted to be.

They made their way through the entire plate of melon. The Doctor cleaned his lips of any remaining juice, with a swipe of his tongue, staring at the Master.

“I take good care of you, don’t I?” He asked, with a smug smile on his face.

The Doctor nodded in agreement, absent-mindedly, barely able to focus on the words he was saying, distracted by those gratifying lips of his.

The Doctor swallowed, nervously, forcing his eyes to avert their gaze from the Master’s mouth.

“Would you - um, undo the handcuffs please?” He repeated, remembering he was stuck. “My sheets are...” He looked around at his sheets, pointedly, then back at the Master.

“Now why would I do that?” He asked, “You haven’t earned it yet, have you?”

The Doctor’s brow furrowed, unbelieving, “No, please. I just need a shower. That’s all. Also my wrists are aching.”

The Master shrugged with a smirk, “ _You_ are the one denying yourself of this. Not me.” He said, standing up, “You know I wanted to give you _everything_. You refused.” He was walking towards the door now, and the Doctor panicked slightly, trying to sit up despite his handcuffs.

“ _Master_ -“

“ _Mmm_...” He paused his pursuit towards the door, turning around to take in the Doctor’s form. He looked anxious, a wreck in fact, a wreck, all for his Master, and that was simply delightful. “ _Wow_.” He breathed, as though he were looking at the most beautiful and extraordinary thing in the world. The Master’s name on the Doctor’s lips, tasted like the finest chocolate and champagne to him. “Say my name again. _Beg me_. And I might release you.”

The Doctor hesitated, clearly wanting to be released, but also not wanting to have to demean himself.

“ _Master_.” He said, quietly, “ _Please_ ,” He added, his voice shaking in sadness and mortification.


	25. Just Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than usual to make up for the fact it took me ages to write this one!! Hope u enjoy :)
> 
> Also you might notice the Doctor changing his mind very frequently and almost erratically? This is just my interpretation of the rabbit hole of mental illness he is falling down...
> 
> He’s trying his best but the Master seems to be mostly succeeding at twisting his mind. A lot of their conversations don’t make much sense anymore.
> 
> Basically, the Master is a bastard. But when has that ever changed?

The Master contemplated it for a moment. The Doctor had asked very nicely... As well as practically eating out of his hand... Would he release him?

“Oh, alright then.” He sighed, dramatically, walking back to him and undoing his handcuffs.

The Doctor exhaled, feeling his sore wrists which were now free.

“Thank you, Master.” He breathed.

It pleased the Master a lot to hear this.

The Doctor sat up, then nodded towards a pile of clothes on the floor, “Would you pass them to me, please?” He asked, “Master?” He added, quickly.

The Master raised his eyebrows slightly, before picking them up and throwing them at him with fond a roll of his eyes.

Dressed now, the Doctor got out of bed and rushed past the Master - not looking at him. From behind he heard the Master laugh at his behaviour, but ignored him.

Reaching the ensuite, he hurried in and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it. He immediately ran a cool shower, hastily removing the clothes he had just put on.

Stepping into the cold water, he sighed. He stood there for minutes, not knowing what to do. He was afraid of touching himself. He felt so sensitive, all over. He was shaking slightly.

He squirted a palm sized amount of body wash into his hand, and used it to rub across his chest.

He relaxed swiftly, realising that it wasn’t too bad. It was fine, in fact. He wasn’t feeling much of anything. It felt completely normal.

Becoming more confident, he began to clean himself properly, all over. It was nice to feel clean again.

But... there was still something not right. Something that was not allowing him to relax completely.

An _ache_ , which felt as deep inside his tummy.

 _Perhaps_... He could just ease it away a little bit. If he just touched where he wanted to touch, for a bit.

Feeling guilty, his hand tentatively, slowly, slid down his stomach... _lower_.

He gasped, as his trembling fingers touched his sex. It sent a jolt of shock through him. B _ut it felt good... almost good... he just needed more._

He stroked it some more, and sighed lowly as it started to feel better. But the pleasure seemed to tighten. He moaned as a particularly good sensation shot through him, and immediately cringed.

 _Had the Master heard him?_ He hadn’t exactly been quiet. But luckily there was the loud shower, which would have hopefully converted up the noise.

He moved his hand away, deciding he wouldn’t be able to do anything like... that, without the Master hearing. And that was just too humiliating.

He could imagine the Master’s nasty, self-satisfied grin on the other side of the door, revelling in how needy the Doctor was at the moment.

He finished his shower, dried himself with a towel, changed back into his clothing and headed out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.

His eyes met the Master’s. He seemed to be smirking.

“ _What_.” The Doctor said, sharply.

“ _Nothing_!” He said, with his hands up, comically, as though that made him seem innocent.

The Doctor gritted his teeth together, biting back all of the verbal attacks which were trying to escape his mouth. The Master had heard him in the shower.

“Look.” The Doctor said, with a sigh, sitting down on the bed, “Please, would you just show some empathy?”

The Master tilted his head slightly, curiously, like a dog about to be given a treat.

“You want me to show you empathy?” He asked, a cruel smile on his face. “After you were the one to reject me?”

“I had to... I have to. This thing between us - it can’t continue. Especially now given the possible consequences. We couldn’t - I couldn’t have your child.”

There was a chilling silence in which the Doctor regretted saying anything. He should have just kept quiet.

“I should have punished you for refusing. You’re lucky I didn’t.” He muttered, darkly.

“Please... stop. Look at what you’re doing. Just... help me.” The Doctor whispered. He didn’t know what he was begging for exactly. He just wanted to stop hurting. Maybe if the Master would just leave - give him some space now.

“You know exactly how I can help you.” The Master snapped, irritably, as he climbed onto the bed and shoved the Doctor onto his back. “And I offered this before. You just refused it.”

“Wait, that’s not what I-“

The Doctor shouted, as the Master bit him on the neck, certainly hard enough to draw blood.

“Shut up.” The Master growled, “This is exactly what you meant. What you want.” He paused, panting heavily above him, “Say it!” He screamed, suddenly, and the Doctor winced.

“I don’t-“

“Just say it.” He repeated, under his breath, threateningly. “And I can help you.” He added, much more softly, pressing several soothing kisses across the bite wound on his neck, as though asking for forgiveness. The Doctor felt his body betray him - weakening, going limp under the Master’s in submission, as the smell of Alpha infected his brain.

“Master...” He whimpered, gathering his remaining strength to utter the words his primal, Omega senses were telling him not to, “Please... Leave me now.”

The Master seemed to still on top of him, staring down at him. The Doctor shut his eyes and turned his head to the side, as he tried to slow down his breathing.

The Doctor felt the Master’s weight move off him. His eyes still shut, he heard the Master’s footsteps quieten, as he distanced himself from him.

“Thank you.” The Doctor murmured, opening his eyes again. The Master was sat in an armchair, on the other side of the room.

The Doctor got up, able to rest his chin onto his knees in a sitting position, his eyes fixed on the Master who was thankfully now a distance away.

“Do you mind just - staying here, for a bit?” The Doctor asked, hesitantly.

It was a strange feeling. He wanted the Master close to him, at the same time as wanting him miles away. This seemed like a good place - in the same room, but a good few metres away too.

He couldn’t have the Master too close. His senses would just go fruit loop. He would be giving into his desires in a few seconds flat, uncaring on the consequences.

Only seconds ago, their bodies being so close, the Doctor had felt his muscles giving in - allowing his Alpha to breed him and claim him.

But, a little distance away from him, like this, was almost perfect. The Doctor still felt that same irresistible, comfort he felt with the Master’s presence these days. But minus the need to take off his clothes, which was good.

“I’m disappointed in you.”

The Doctor felt as though his body temperature had just dropped a few degrees. Why was he feeling... shame?

“I don’t know what to say.” The Doctor replied, softly, “I’m sorry. It’s just I - we just can’t do that, at the moment.”

Why was he apologising? Why did the Doctor feel the need to apologise for the Master’s disappointment? Since when had he wanted to please the Master? Since now, the Doctor realised, perhaps for a long while now.

The Doctor knew he should not be feeling this way. It made no sense. But, he had noticed that his time trapped on the Valiant had been slowly changing his feelings. Maybe it was because the Doctor was a prisoner here. Perhaps he was so used to playing the role of subservient, that apologising had become the natural and right-feeling thing to do.

“You misunderstand me, Doctor. You think I’ve given up?” The Master said, coldly, a smirk playing his lips, “This isn’t over. You’ll turn. I know it. You won’t be able to keep up this act of defiance for much longer - I can smell it on you... so needy... so close. Only gave you a little push earlier. I don’t even need to force it out of you. You’ll be begging for your Alpha in no time.”

The Doctor stayed quiet, concluding that was probably the best thing to do.

“Good. Silence suits you.”

He sounded pleased with the Doctor. Perhaps he thought the Doctor’s silence was submission. Maybe it was...

“You do talk far too much.” He continued, in a whisper, and the Doctor’s heart rate increased slightly, noticing the clear hiss of anger in the Master’s voice.

It seemed the Master had been effected by the Doctor rejecting him earlier, despite the fact he didn’t let on - hiding his true feelings with a cruel smirk and a promise of getting to the Doctor soon.

“Perhaps I should do something about that...” The Master was smiling again, and the Doctor couldn’t prevent the icy cold wave of anxiety that spread through him, head to toe. “It seems I offered you freedom far too early.” The Master tutted, as he stood up and slowly made his way over to the Doctor, “A few more hours ought to teach you.”

He saw a pair of handcuffs being pulled out of his pocket, and the Doctor instinctively moved away. He was as far away as he could get, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed he was sitting on.

“You let me go because you thought I was going to have sex with you?” The Doctor spat, incredulously, as the Master roughly grabbed his wrists and clicked the cuffs shut around them.

“I thought you were ready.” The Master responded, icily.

“You’re delusional.”

“You were pretty eager to lick my fingers clean earlier. Just being tidy, yes?” The Master hissed, laughing, as he manhandled the Doctor’s arms above his head, attaching his handcuffed wrists to a metal bar of the headboard. “Besides, I’ve been fucking you for months now.” He added, viciously, pulling on his restraints to make sure they were secure. “And I’m the delusional one, am I?”

The Master stepped back, to admire his work which was the Doctor, imprisoned to his bed. “There’s something missing...” He mumbled, thoughtfully looking the Doctor up and down. “Ah, yes!” He said, brightly, “I almost forgot. Something to shut you up.” He said, stuffing some sort of gag into the Doctor’s mouth.

The Doctor protested, trying to push the gag out with his mouth, but it was soon strapped securely onto him. He groaned, his muscles jerking slightly in unrepressed rage and upset and... hopelessness.

“All better. Mm?” The Master sighed happily, sitting down on the bed to, almost tenderly, stroke the Doctor’s cheek. The Doctor recoiled as much as he could, finding his touch too much - too stimulating. The Master’s skin on his throbbed with an unwanted, yearning heat. The Doctor was avoiding any and all eye contact now, afraid of what that yearning heat might turn into. The Master seemed to notice this, and giggled quietly - he could probably smell the Doctor’s want. The Master had become so cruel to the Doctor, ever since he had discovered he was on heat.

Without warning, the Master was stripping himself of clothes. The Doctor looked away, quickly, as just the sight of it in his peripheral vision was very nearly sending him over the edge. The Master walked around the bed and hopped onto the other side, getting comfortable underneath the duvets.

The Doctor wanted to say something - object, but the gag in his mouth stopped him. He sighed, feeling helpless. He didn’t want the Master here, in the same bed as him - not when he was like this. He couldn’t afford to mess up, he couldn’t afford to give in to his desires. The consequences were too great. When he was off heat, then, maybe, they could go back to normal. But not now.

“You comfy, Doctor?” He murmured, almost sleepily, a small grin on his face.

 _‘No.’_ The Doctor shot, angrily, breaking through the Master’s defences with a nasty twinge of pain for the both of them, straight into the Master’s head.

The Master hissed through his teeth, looking thoroughly irritated now. “Speak nicely to your Master.” He sang, condescendingly, “You know I could make things a lot worse for you.”

This time, the Doctor more gently slipped through his defences, like entering through an opened door. _‘Don’t you have a planet to rule?’ The Doctor responded, bitterly, ‘Why do you spend so much time with me?’_

‘Because I like you.” He said, and to the Doctor’s infuriation, he moved closer, sliding one of his hands across the Doctor’s clothed chest, delicately - lovingly.

The Master seemed to pause, and the Doctor watched his face carefully as it changed minutely into something scarier, and more twisted. “Or I hate you,” He added, as he slapped the Doctor’s face, hard. A small noise of pain escaped the Doctor’s lips.

“I’m not really sure.” The Master continued, breezily and almost idly, as though he hadn’t just hit the Doctor in the face a second ago. “My favourite component. My favourite game.” The Master whispered, reverently, like he was talking to himself, as his fingertips trailed across the Doctor’s shirt, watching in fascination and some kind of awe. “I just know that I- I need you.” He said, firmly, continuing his strange fondling of the Doctor, “And I know that you need me.”

The Doctor groaned, desperately wanting to be able to speak. But instead resorted to focusing on a reply straight into the Master’s head: _‘Fine. You need me. I can help you - just please, let me. We can leave this place, together.’_ Projecting speech into another’s head was a strenuous activity. It was tiring him out now and he most definitely did not want that.

“Nu-uh-uh.” The Master tittered, before kissing the Doctor’s collarbone, which was more like a nibble, and the Doctor yelled in response, although it was somewhat muffled by the gag. “I have you just fine here.” He smiled, in pseudo-pleasantness.

The Doctor forced back a groan of frustration, as the Master continued splattering manic, hungry, rushed kisses across his somewhat limited, available skin. “We haven’t seen Lucy in a while, have we?” He murmured, absently, focusing on his work. “Haven’t checked on her for _weeks_.” He said, with a comically awkward grin and a shrug, “Could be dead. You know how humans die.” He added, chuckling.

The Doctor’s hearts stung a little at this. Yes... He did know how humans died. He had lost... a few. And even the ones that hadn’t died in his care, they had all died eventually anyway. He always outlived them.

“Not me, though...” He sighed, happily, “I’m going to be around for an eternity. All for you. I’m going to burn this universe, and you’re going to watch. Don’t worry though! By the end of it, you’ll enjoy the show - It’ll be the only thing you have left. Me. My destruction. My cause and effect.”


	26. Never Enough

It had been hours since the Master had left, and the Doctor found his heat rapidly worsening.

He was hot and bothered all over. Sweat was dripping down him and soaking into the sheets again. He changed the position in which he was laying down frequently, trying to ease the uncontrollable restlessness - the need to move.

It was painful. Every muscle in his body was aching. He had a deafening, pounding headache, which made him screw his eyes shut

He groaned loudly, feeling a particularly strong flush of heat and frustration. Arousal, almost. He wanted to grind against something. It was electrical. It hurt, like electricity would, but also excited him, made him yearn for something he didn’t have -

“Are you alright?” The man asked, mechanically, sticking his head through the now open door. The guard. The one the Master had mentioned before he had left.

“No...” He whined, squirming slightly, “I need - I _need_ -“ He was panting, then breathing through his teeth, his jaw shut tensely. “I _need him_.” He whispered, despairingly, more to himself, completely and utterly ashamed of the words which were making their way out of his mouth. “I need the Master.” He repeated, shakily, but a little louder, directly at the man in front of him. He shut his eyes tight, trying to manage the tingling shocks of pain in his abdomen. His heat had never been this bad before. “Get him.” The words burst out of his mouth, before whimpering. His wrists cracked in agony, as he wildly attempted to pull the handcuffs off, but fail. He briefly wondered whether he had broken anything, before another rush of heat hit him, and he moaned.

“ _Get the Master!_ ” The Doctor repeated, yelling at the man now.

The man recoiled slightly, “Sorry. Y-yes.” He said, quickly, before rushing away.

About ten minutes later, the Master appeared.

“What took you _so long?_ ” The Doctor complained angrily, tears in his eyes.

He strode into the room, serious-faced, straight towards the Doctor, and he almost cried in relief at this.

He was releasing the Doctor’s handcuffed wrists, and a second later the Doctor was on him.

The Doctor groaned in satisfaction as their lips met. He was feeling up the Master’s body, ravenously, right before knocking him onto his back.

The Doctor took a split second to smile down at him, almost maniacally, and the Master giggled, pushing himself up to latch his mouth onto the Doctor’s nape.

The Master bit instinctively, and tasted wet and metallic. The Doctor grunted, and shook with pain, trying to push the Master off him. But the Master was stronger in that instant, pinning him down and lapping feverishly at the blood now trickling down his neck.

The Doctor grabbed the Master roughly by the throat, pressing him onto his back again, so the Doctor was on top.

His hands tightened around the Master’s windpipe, briefly wondering whether he could strangle him to death. He had the strength to do so. There were no soldiers around. Perhaps he could end this all, right now. Put a stop to the Master’s reign of terror.

The Master would regenerate of course, but if the soldiers saw he was dead, surely they would stop taking orders from him. The Doctor would have just enough time to carry him back to the Tardis. Take him away from this place. Safe, in the Tardis. Although he would have to fix the Tardis first...

He was woken from his daydream by the Master’s fingers clawing at his own, attempting to remove the tight grip the Doctor currently had of the Master’s own trachea. He must have had his fingers around the Master’s neck for a while without releasing.

Perhaps more disturbing than anything, the Master was... _smiling?_

“Go on then.” The Master hissed, with the little air he had left. “Kill me.”

The Doctor felt strangely spurred on by this at first. He added further pressure onto the Master’s neck, using his body weight to lean onto his chest - _crush his lungs!_

The Master was still smiling... but his body was losing all of its energy to fight back. He was going limp.

The Doctor released him, backing away quickly, horrified by what he had been doing.

And the Master was... laughing?

The Doctor blinked at the scene in front of him, completely bewildered.

The Master was practically rolling on the bed with laughter.

“Oh, Doctor,” He said, breathlessly, “You had me! Completely at your fingertips! And you _still_ backed out!”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The Doctor replied, quietly.

The Doctor watched as the Master carefully felt his bruised neck. The Master winced with a small smile, as though he found the pain pleasing. The Doctor’s eyes followed the Master’s fingertips as they trailed from his injured neck to his slightly swollen lips.

Unthinking, the Doctor leaned in and pressed a kiss to those lips. It was like an apology, small and sweet and simple.

The Doctor’s own fingers began to gently trace the bruises on the Master’s neck. He found a particularly painful-looking, purple bruise, which he then kissed, like it was a remedy this time. The Doctor’s tongue rolled over his hot skin slowly, savouring it. The Master’s fingers intertwined with the Doctor’s hair, pulling him in closer and closer. Never satisfied. _Never close enough._

The Master had soon pinned the Doctor beneath him once more. The Doctor lay there weakly, feeling rather hazy due to the strong pheromones the Alpha was producing.

Everything felt... right. Easy. It was blissful, just lying there without a care in the world. An intoxicating warmth was spreading through his body - this inescapable feeling of safety and comfort.

The Master was taking his clothes off next, or maybe ripping them off, he wasn’t sure. The touch simply made the Doctor smile.

A small part of his brain was still nagging at him though, telling him he shouldn’t be letting this happen. But it wasn’t enough.

For now, it was the easiest thing to just lay there. Let it happen.

The Doctor barely noticed when he was hoisted onto his front. He moaned softly into the pillow, as he felt the Master enter him. It felt good. Something in the Doctor’s tummy was tightening, getting closer, and soon it was releasing, and all he could do was moan some more, deeply.

The Doctor came back to himself fully a few minutes later. The Master’s arm was wrapped around him firmly, his face nuzzling into the Doctor’s nape. He could hear the Master’s breathing, feel the softness and warmth of it on the back of his neck.

The Doctor attempted to squirm out of the Master’s grip, as he began to remember the events of the last hour. His breathing became shorter, and shallower, and soon he was practically hyperventilating, struggling to push the Master’s hands off of him.

“Shh... _Calm_...” The Master whispered, in a soothing tone, not relenting the strong grip he had of him.

It didn’t calm the Doctor down though. In fact it probably panicked him more.

“Get- off-“ He panted, his mind beginning to explore more desperate measures of escape.

The Doctor elbowed him hard in the stomach, and the Master angrily hissed through his teeth in pain.

“If you don’t calm down _I will make you._ ” He warned, dangerously. But the Doctor ignored him, continuing to struggle away from him.

He got out of the Master’s grip then. He was leaping out of bed, before the Master yanked him down again, and bit into his neck.

The Doctor cried and shook at the suddenness of it. But unwillingly, the Doctor soon felt a wave of calm crash over him, just as the Master had warned. He found himself relaxing into the Master’s arms, and there was a soothing hand stroking through his hair.

“There we go.” The Master said, gently. “All better now.”

Something in the Alpha’s blood had passed into the Doctor’s when he was bitten. It was a primitive way of subduing Omegas, only used so long ago, but the Master was taking advantage of it.

“You need to rest. You’re so precious now.” The Master murmured, avidly, pressing kisses onto the sore bite wounds on his neck.

“ _Master_.” The Doctor whined, shivering slightly.

“Are you cold?” He asked, a little anxiously, wrapping more of the duvet around them.

“Please, just-“

“ _What is it_?” The Master asked, more urgently, scattering more kisses.

“ _I can’t believe you’ve done this._ ”


	27. Dead Now

The Doctor woke up feeling warm. He hadn’t slept much, but the last few hours he got were heaven.

He didn’t want to feel comfortable. Mentally, he was far from it. He had messed up last night - big time.

He had been angry with the Master. But now, he just felt ashamed by his own behaviour. He should have been able to control himself. He was a Time Lord, not an animal.

It wasn’t entirely his fault though. The Master hadn’t exactly made things easy on him.

But now... the consequences he would have to pay were unimaginably unbearable. It was almost certain he would be with child now, and that wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. Time Lords weren’t created like animals! They were created with Looms. It was supposed to be a sophisticated and careful process. One which was completed with the upmost precision for the safety of the child. Birthing beings that could regenerate was not an easy task.

It was technically possible to procreate naturally, without the use of Looms. But Time Lords would have this ability removed at the start of every new regeneration. And now, considering Gallifrey was no longer around, the Doctor never had this service, nor did the Master.

The Doctor also didn’t have a female’s anatomy, making the task a much harder challenge. Without equipment, the child would certainly die.

The Master stirred from his sleep, wrapping his arm more firmly and possessively around the Doctor’s waist.

“You _hardly_ slept...” The Master murmured, pressing kisses to the back of the Doctor’s bare shoulder, “I could hear you thinking all night.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, before closing it, realising he didn’t have the strength to say anything. He felt thoroughly depressed. He couldn’t see a way out of this dreadful situation. The Doctor was glad he had his back to the Master. He certainly didn’t want the Master to see his face at the moment.

The Doctor sighed quietly, as the Master took one of his hands and absently fondled with it, soft thumb rubbing soothing and repetitive circles into his palm.

The Doctor subtly wiped away any tears on his cheeks, with the pretence of rubbing his face with a hearty yawn.

“Having you near me feels... _so good_.” The Master whispered, with a shaky intake of breath and a smile into the Doctor’s nape, “I haven’t felt like this in so long... The Time Lords got rid of this... _lovely_ feeling.” He said, now mouthing at his his neck passionately, “... _Dead now_... though.” He muttered, roughly and unclearly, losing himself in whatever he thought he was doing to the Doctor’s skin.

The Doctor gasped, as the Master sucked on his pulse point particularly hard, finishing with a small nip.

And despite himself, despite how low he felt due to all of this... the Doctor was feeling his own arousal building up uncontrollably.

Breathing heavily now, he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to distance himself from the Master’s touch which was making him so hot and anxious.

 _He felt sick. Like his body was on overdrive._ He could feel his own double heartbeat working far too rapidly for somebody resting. The mad, quick adrenaline rushing through him and the shaking in his hands.

“Doctor,” He said, lowly, only stopping his kisses for small gaps of speech, “Gods, how - do you - feel - _so good_?”

The Doctor meant to exhale, but it came out as more of a whine and the Master seemed to be encouraged by this. He was going faster, more frantically, smiling.

Clearly the Doctor’s Omega scent, which was probably amplified by the Doctor’s own arousal, was sending the Master into a rut.

The Master tired or was satisfied eventually, laying onto his back and turning his head to the left to admire the Doctor.

The Doctor still had his back turned to him. He knew the Doctor wasn’t happy, but he didn’t care much. His happiness was irrelevant, as long as he provided what the Master wanted. And he would.

Not that the Master was against the Doctor’s happiness. He had given the Doctor countless opportunities to be happy and yet... still, here he was, the hero, sulking.

It would be even easier if the Doctor was happy - pleased with the situation. But he would be, eventually, the Master knew this. It might take some time to crack the Doctor - break him. But it would happen. It was inevitable. There was only so long the Doctor could pretend that the Master wasn’t the only thing he had left. Oh, how he was looking forward to that day... The fun he could have with the Doctor at his side.

“Let’s have breakfast.” The Master said, jumping out of bed enthusiastically.

The Doctor kept his eyes closed and still. He knew it was hopeless. The Master could make him do anything he wanted. But at least the Doctor had something. Something to do, which wasn’t just pressing the Master’s every whim.

Seeing him, the Master giggled, then kneeled down on the Doctor’s side of the bed to observe his face more carefully.

“Come on, Doctor...” the Master said, softly, his breath practically touching the Doctor’s face, as he stroked a seemingly loving hand through the Doctor’s hair. “Don’t be sad. _You’ve done so well._ ”

The Doctor opened his eyes slowly. This was the last thing the Doctors wanted to hear. That he had done well. That he had actually pleased this maniac.

“You need to eat, _especially more so now.”_

The Doctor winced, not wanting to think about the horror of a child he was most likely now carrying.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” The Master whispered, endearingly, “It’s up to you.” He added, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You know I can do anything I want...” The Master continued, with a dramatic sigh, “I could force-feed you, if I wanted. _Punish you_ , for disobeying me. Teach you to behave.”

He didn’t want any of those things. The thought of it alone was humiliating.

The Doctor had been avoiding the Master’s eye the entire time until just then. Their eyes met, and the Doctor found himself holding in a breath.

“So, what’s it to be?” The Master asked, with a calm smirk.

“ _Master_...”

“Yes?” He replied, expectantly, his smile growing larger.

“ _The hard way._ ” The Doctor growled.

The Master’s smile disappeared instantaneously, replaced by a flash of cold fury. He had been caught off guard. He hadn’t expected the Doctor to disobey.

“Now, now, that is a _shame_...” He murmured, closely, with a small lick of his lips. “But fine by me, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes.” The Doctor snapped, frigidly.

“Alright,” the Master said, with an air of unnatural buoyancy, as he stood up. “ _Your Lord and Master requires assistance!_ ” He called, in a sing-song way.


	28. Prey Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story is just getting darker and darker and idk if thats a good thing or not. 
> 
> In case it isnt obvious - this isnt normal behaviour. The Master is completely mad and the Doctor certainly displays a lot of signs of mental illness. 
> 
> This chapter seemed... very icky
> 
> and im afraid the chapters after this get ickier

“Mr Saxon? You called.”

“Ah, yes. Please assist the Doctor in getting out of bed and dressing. He’s obviously incapable of doing it on his own.”

“Yes, sir.” The two men replied.

“What? No!” The Doctor gasped, incredulously, clinging desperately to the sheets as the soldiers approached him.

“I told you, Doctor. It was going to go the easy way, or the hard way. You chose the hard way.”

The soldiers had paused by his bed, passing each other looks of worry and confusion as they tried to work out the best way to do it. “Just get on with it.” The Master snapped.

No longer hesitating, urged on by the threat of being murdered by the Master, the Doctor was yanked out of bed and pushed onto his knees with a painful crash.

With gritted teeth, the Doctor lowered his head to stare at the ground, not wanting to even catch a glimpse of the glowering smile he knew was on the Master’s face.

Next a shirt was being pulled onto him roughly, and with a grunt of frustration, the Doctor was being hauled onto his feet again and pushed onto the bed. One went off to seemingly collect clothes from a drawer, and next thing boxers and trousers were being pushed onto him with a small struggle.

Socks next, then shoes, and when the men finally stepped away, the Doctor huffed loudly in relief and anger.

“Don’t worry, dear. _They won’t be needed anymore_.”

The Doctor didn’t have even a second to react. One moment the Master was talking, the next, he had pulled out his laser screwdriver and the two soldiers had fallen to the ground with a sickening thud. _Dead_.

The Doctor was speechless, he was still silently gasping for breath as the Master hoisted him up onto his feet.

“Anyone who touches you has to die, I’m afraid.” He said, with a comically, falsely apologetic voice. “Anyone who isn’t me, of course.” He added, with a horrible giggle, “You’re mine, after all. Why should I share you with anyone?” He said casually, linking his arm with the Doctor’s. “Shall we go then?” He asked, enthusiastically, giving him a small tug.

The Doctor went without a struggle this time. He didn’t want anyone else to die. The Master simply led him out of the room with a renewed, happy skip in his step.

The Doctor was sat down at the large table in the ‘Conference Room’. They still called it the Conference Room, for some reason. It was more like a meeting, slash eating, slash torture room. It was rather like the living room of the Valiant, actually.

It had many purposes, but hardly ever conferences. Although that did sometimes happen! The Doctor remembered the time the Master had discussed Japan in this very room, before destroying it. The thought of that made the Doctor feel a little queasy as food was brought to the table.

“Eat up.” The Master said, cheerfully.

The Doctor looked down at the various different breakfast items to choose from. He really didn’t feel hungry. But he was still shaking from earlier, and he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

Feeling down and having no energy to get out of his bad mood, he picked the blandest food on the table. He was only eating to stop the Master from murdering anyone. There was no point in eating anything he particularly liked.

He scooped a small portion of porridge into a bowl, picked up a spoon, and swallowed a small amount.

Damn him. It did actually taste nice. Of course it did. The Master had the best of everything.

Avoiding eye contact with the Master, the Doctor kept his eye on his bowl.

Lucy. She popped into the Doctor’s head. The Master had mentioned her last night, joking that she might even be dead. The Doctor hadn’t seen her for a while.

The Doctor swallowed another spoonful of porridge, staring into the distance pensively.

He was pulled out of his thoughts abruptly by the sound of the door opening, and of course, it was Lucy, right on cue.

“Ah, Lucy! We’ve been missing you!” The Master called, smiling broadly.

Lucy’s eyebrows were furrowed as she shut the door carefully behind her, as if worried she was making too much sound. Just like the Doctor, she was also obviously nervous and confused.

“Especially the Doctor. He’s always fussing and worrying about you.” The Master added.

The Doctor’s eyes flashed towards the Master, (who looked obscenely merry), unknowing of the Master’s motives at the moment. Not knowing made him anxious.

“Come, sit!”

Lucy looked apprehensive for a moment, before treating the Master’s statement as an order, and sitting down at the table with them. Lucy was very still, like a prey animal hoping it wouldn’t be spotted.

“You can eat.” The Master said, with a roll of his eyes, and a pointed look towards the food on the table.

Hesitantly, Lucy took a piece of toast. She took one last look at the Master, as though checking she had permission, before nibbling on it. The Doctor took another mouthful of porridge, expecting the Master to look at him any second. It seemed they were both being thoroughly controlled by the Master.

The Doctor finished his rather small bowl of porridge, and put his spoon down quietly, just as Lucy was finishing.

“There we go!” The Master said, with a hearty grin. “You can’t say I don’t look after the two of you.”

The Doctor’s eyes met Lucy’s in that moment, before they both looked away quickly.

“Now,” He said, standing up, “I really must get back to taking over the universe. I daresay I’ve been a little distracted by you, Doctor.” He added, in a fondly but nevertheless patronising way, leaning down to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You two can mingle. Lucy can show you what she does all day. Have a wander! And you can both gossip about how utterly gorgeous I am, yes?”

Still seated, the Doctor watched as the Master made his way to the door to exit.

“Have fun!” He called, and with a slam, the Master had left.


	29. Pretty Good Kisser

The Doctor took in Lucy’s appearance. She looked unhealthy. Perhaps a little underweight. But mostly, she just seemed so sad. Her eyes were no longer bright. Her smile had faded. Her face was dulled.

“Lucy...”

“It’s fine.” Lucy said, quietly.

“Well, _actually_...”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to apologise, and I don’t need that. It’s fine - _I’m fine._ ” She snapped.

“The last time we spoke, I - I wasn’t in the right state of mind to help you. I’m sorry.”

Lucy’s eye-line rested on the table instead of the Doctor now.

“I’m not sure if I’m better enough to even help you now.” He added, sadly, “ _But I’ll try._ ”

“You can’t help me.” She said suddenly, her eyes welling up with tears, looking at the Doctor directly. He almost flinched. He desperately wanted to look somewhere else. He couldn’t stand seeing this amount of pain.

“I could try and make things easier for you.” The Doctor said, softly, “Look after you more, when I can. Even try and persuade the Master to.”

Lucy didn’t reply. She was staring into the distance behind and beyond the Doctor.

“Anyway,” The Doctor continued, “At least the Master’s gone now... for a bit.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” She laughed, breathily, almost inaudibly.

“He did say we could walk about, if you wanted?”

“Maybe in a bit.”

The Doctor nodded, “You can probably eat some more too.” He added, with a smile, looking at the food left on the table.

“Yeah,” She said, gingerly, taking another piece of toast and biting into it.

“What have you been doing all the time?” He asked, after a few minutes of peaceful chewing, “Here, on the Valiant. I haven’t seen you.”

Lucy put the remaining toast down onto her plate and swallowed.

“Mainly been watching you two _get each other off._ ” She said, bitterly, “ _From the shadows._..” She added, darkly, “I’ve been around, you know. Just because you haven’t seen me, doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you.”

She picked up her toast again and took a a noticeably more aggressive bite into it. “Harry’s seen me too. I think he likes it when I watch.” She said, with a shrug, “You two should really get a room sometimes.”

“We do, normally, we-“ the Doctor stopped himself. He really didn’t want to talk about that.

“You two... You’re of the same species?” She asked, mercifully moving the conversation on.

The Doctor nodded.

“Harry used to talk about you all the time... Yeah...” She said, vaguely, munching on her toast, “‘Was surprised when I saw you. Expected you to be more... _God-like_.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just a _man_.” She answered, simply, “Just like Harry. Except... of course, you’re both so much more, under the surface.”

She finished her toast, then poured herself a coffee, before setting down the cup with an angry clunk. “I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with him.” She said, with a sigh, “It would be so much easier, just hating him. Then he wouldn’t be able to hurt me so much.”

“I know.” The Doctor said, quietly.

“ _I know you know._ ” She said, “We share that one thing in common.”

The room seemed to go unusually quiet. Perhaps the whole world. The Doctor and Lucy had paused their other thoughts, only to think of each other.

Next thing, before the Doctor could even process the situation, Lucy had leaned forward over the table, wildly, seemingly knocking over everything and not caring, and _kissed_ him.

It lasted a few moments. The Doctor wasn’t sure if he kissed back or not. But as she pulled away, he knew that he sort of... liked it.

Lucy looked slightly flushed now, and she was breathing heavily in her seat. “You’re actually a pretty good kisser.”

“What-“

“Wanted to see what it was like for Harry.” She explained, casually. “What he likes about you so much.”

“Ah.” The Doctor said, awkwardly, slightly disappointed that the conversation had come back to the Master.

“Anyway, shall we go for a walk?” She asked, standing up.


	30. Caged In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story is going downhill and it’s making me anxious. Its a bottomless pit. I don’t know when to stop and it’s just getting darker and darker. 
> 
> I’m really trying, hope y’all continue to enjoy it.

The Doctor and Lucy walked in silence. Passing a couple of soldiers walking the other way down the corridor, the Doctor was harshly reminded of the events from only this morning. The Master had killed.

They stopped in front of the door that seemed to be where the Doctor and the Master slept most nights.

She opened the door with more force than necessary, so it hit the wall with a crash. Clearly undisturbed by this, Lucy confidently walked in and sat down on the bed, before slipping her shoes off.

The Doctor stood there in the doorway, wondering for a second as to whether he should leave or not.

“Oh, close the door, will you.” She said, irritably, “I haven’t slept properly in days, and since we have free-range now, I just want an actual bed.”

The Doctor closed the door, quietly, and watched as Lucy climbed into bed, still clothed, her back turned to the Doctor.

He sat down in an armchair and started eyeing the bookcases for something to read.

His hands rested on his abdomen, and with a sigh, was starkly reminded of the child he might be carrying. He swallowed, feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“You can sleep here too, you know, if you want, by the way.” Lucy murmured, sleepily, interrupting the Doctor’s thoughts. “I mean, it is your bed...”

At least Lucy would get some rest, he thought. The first positive news in a long while.

The Doctor could tell when she had fallen asleep. He heard her breathing and heart rate slowing down, until it stayed at a very low, even pace. He was reading something about Tardis repairs. Not that he even had a Tardis anymore. Getting bored, and thinking he could do all of this without the instructions, he set the book down.

He felt rather tired now too. He hadn’t slept much at all last night, and all of the worrying was bound to also be draining his energy.

He kicked his shoes off, and slipped into the other side of the bed. Luckily it was easy to keep a large, polite distance away from Lucy, due to the fact it was a King-sized bed. There was at least a metre between the two of them, and like Lucy, the Doctor kept his back turned to her.

Was this what his life was now? Just sleeping and eating and living for no other purpose than to continue being the Master’s toy, or pet, or lover, or whatever he was...

With a gasp, the Doctor realised he had fallen asleep as he was awoken by the Master climbing into the middle of the bed, between the Doctor and Lucy, “You too look very cozy,” He teased.

“Give us a break.” The Doctor groaned, his back still determinedly turned.

He felt the Master move closer, his abdomen touching the Doctor’s back, he wrapped an arm around the Doctors’s waist and kissing his neck. In response, the Doctor elbowed him hard.

“Ouch.” The Master said, in a pretend, ironic, false-hurt voice. But the Master took the Doctor’s hint, and moved away from him, which he was glad about.

The Doctor closed his eyes again, peacefully. But that peace was destroyed only minutes later when he heard Lucy moan. He opened his eyes with gritted teeth, as he listened to the rustling of sheets and the little creaks of the bed, the small noises escaping the Master and Lucy’s mouths.

He was glad his back was turned to them, so he didn’t have to watch the wretched scene. If only he could just lose his hearing now.

The Doctor and the Master had made ‘love’ on this exact bed, and now, here he was, listening to the Master screwing Lucy. The whole situation was disgusting. But the Doctor supposed it wasn’t even that different to the usual filth on board the Valiant.

Feeling more than uncomfortable, the Doctor rushed out of bed and into the ensuite, not giving the Master or Lucy a single glance.

He shut the door behind him, and locked it, desperately wanting to keep the rest of the world outside.

He ran the cold water tap of the sink, and quickly washed his face.

Breathing heavier than usual, like he was on the verge of crying, the Doctor sat down on the closed toilet seat.

He was definitely being affected by the business on the other side of the ensuite door, the Doctor thought, as he ran his shaky hands over his face.

He knew he felt anxious. But was he jealous? Was he imagining how lovely it would be to be in Lucy’s situation at the moment? The Master’s hands all over him, his love, his affection. The scrumptious feeling of safety and security and danger, all at the same time? Being caged in, trapped by the Master’s strong body? Surely not. No.

It was just his heat. Just his hormones playing tricks with him.

He was worried about Lucy as well... Lucy did seem very erratic and on-the-edge, and the Master wasn’t kind to her.

The Doctor cringed as he heard the Master presumably pounding into her, harder and harder, Lucy’s moans getting louder and louder.

Well, Lucy seemed to be enjoying it, at least... in some twisted way. Just like the Doctor, really. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

When they had clearly finished and become quiet again, the Doctor thought about re-entering and getting some more sleep.

He flushed the toilet, in the pretence that he hadn’t just been sitting in here crying, and took a look at himself in the mirror. He wiped his face with a hand-cloth, and waited a bit until the slight redness of his face had significantly gone.

He came back into the bedroom, not looking at them directly, but noticing in his peripheral vision that the Master was on his back, looking at him. Lucy seemed to just be laying there, on her side again, presumably asleep or trying to sleep.

The Doctor got into bed and under the covers, still not looking at the Master and keeping his back resolutely turned to him.

“You okay?” The Master whispered, so softly and sing-song like, it sounded sarcastic. It was like the Master was making fun of him.

The Doctor nodded, forgetting his back was turned, then not really caring to correct his error.

“I heard your thoughts - and I assure you, I was _not_ being sarcastic...” He murmured, tentatively putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Despite everything, the Doctor didn’t want his hand to go.

Getting the message, either telepathically of guessing, the Master moved in closer, putting the hand that was on his shoulder around the Doctor’s waist. This time, the Doctor didn’t object, and the Master smiled to himself, pressing a soft kiss to the Doctor’s head of hair. “You know you’re mine.” The Master purred, squeezing him tighter, “I’ve taken you. Claimed you. And soon you’re going to be filled with me...” He continued, his hand drifting lower to the Doctor’s abdomen, and keeping it there, firmly. “You know you should be pushing me away right now, but you can’t. You need your Alpha. You need _me_.”

The Doctor sighed, pleasantly, relaxing into the Master’s touch, feeling like every word the Master spoke was the truth. Like he could trust him - like he could look after him.

“I need you _too_.” The Master whined, quietly, pressing into him, even closer, any physical distance between them becoming unbearable, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left you this morning. It began to hurt. I just wanted to touch you, smell you, look at you... even care for you.”

The Doctor hummed, on the verge of happily. He did feel good. Warmth. Lots of comforting warmth. But how could he feel happy, when his conscious mind was screaming at him, reminding him of how terrible everything was? He was a prisoner on this ship and the entire human race were either dead or slaves beneath them.

So why was the Master’s touch and affection bringing him so much delight? How could it? Surely his mind was stronger than this foolish, hormonal trickery? So what was it, if not that? Had he finally cracked? Was he broken?

_Was he no longer the Doctor?_


	31. An Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much: the Doctor, the Master AND Lucy are pretty messed up and desperately need therapy :(

“As much as I’m liking this, it’s late, and you need to eat some dinner.” The Master whispered, endearingly. 

The Doctor had turned onto his other side to nuzzle into the Master’s chest. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and the Doctor felt extremely comfortable like this. It would be difficult to move out of this position. 

“Whatever you want.” The Doctor murmured, softly, his voice muffled slightly against the Master. 

The Master sat up and climbed out of bed, gesturing for the Doctor to do the same. 

Reluctantly, the Doctor took the hand the Master offered and let himself be hauled up onto his feet. 

“Good.” The Master said, quietly. 

Strangely, the Doctor noticed his legs shook slightly, feeling weak. He wanted to sit back down again, but luckily it only lasted for a few seconds, and the Doctor ignored it. The Doctor let go of the Master’s hand quickly, realising he had embarrassingly been clinging onto it for no good reason. 

The Master took him down several corridors into a room he had not been in before. Normally they ate in the conference room, but this room was more stylish and cosier. There was a large long table, just like in the conference room though. 

The Doctor sat down in one of the middle chairs, and the Master sat down opposite him. 

“Dinner will be with us shortly.”

The Doctor nodded, barely hearing him. He was more distracted by the little details of the room. The tiny engravings on the wood under his fingertips, for instance. It could easily be human-made, the Doctor thought, feeling the table. He wondered whether that one human was still alive, down there. 

The Doctor was stirred from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. 

It was Francine - Francine Jones. The Doctor hadn’t seen her in such a long time. He took in her appearance as she walked towards them, carrying various serving dishes. 

There were definitely bruises on her that hadn’t been there the last time the Doctor had seen her. 

“Don’t look at her.” The Master said, sharply, as Francine began to put the dishes down onto the table. 

The Doctor’s eyes met the Master’s, and he stared, transfixed in bewilderment. 

“From now on, your attention shouldn’t be wasted on anyone, but me.” The Master continued, firmly. 

The Doctor’s eyes shifted downwards to rest on the table again, finding he didn’t quite know where to look. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at the Master, and he didn’t want to risk the Master getting angry and hurting someone if he disobeyed. Staring at an inanimate object seemed like the safest way to go for the moment. 

Francine had left, and the Master began putting food onto his plate. There were vegetables and potatoes and steak, and various other different meals in case that one didn’t satisfy. 

Inhaling deeply, the Doctor couldn’t help but smell the hot meat and potatoes. It strangely smelled much more appealing than usual.

He wasn’t a big fan of eating animals, but not especially because of the ethicalness of it. He could easily eat meat without much of a conscience. 

He had just never particularly liked the idea, or the taste of eating flesh. It seemed crude and unnecessary. 

The Doctor glanced up at the Master, before taking a knife and fork and picking up a piece of stake, then placing it on his plate. He sliced a small, chewable piece out of it. 

It tasted so good all of a sudden. 

He continued to eat, enjoying the way it seemed to melt in the mouth. He finished, swallowing his small bite, before subconsciously licking his lips of any remaining juices. 

“You like it?”

The Doctor sighed, pleasantly, nodding, his eyes shut for a moment. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was.” 

Loving every moment of it, he finished the entire steak and put his knife and fork down.

The Master was just putting a piece of what was presumably steak in his mouth, and the Doctor found his eyes tracing the movement uncontrollably. His eyes were brazenly focused on his lips now, not caring whether the Master noticed - not feeling even the slightest bit of embarrassment. 

The Master then put his cutlery down with a small clang, a smirk on his lips. 

“Are you finished then?” The Master asked. 

The Doctor nodded, and they stood up. They exited the room and silently made their way presumably back to the bedroom. The Doctor kept glancing at the Master as subtly as he could, unable to stop himself, just wanting to take another look at him. 

They were just passing a guard and the Doctor knew the bedroom was just on the left - just a little bit further. 

“I have so many questions.” The Doctor said, quickly and quietly, walking beside him. They walked further, and the Master still didn’t respond, even when they reached the bedroom door, “Hey, don’t go quiet on me now.” The Doctor said, firmly but carefully turning him around by the shoulders to look at him, “What’s happening to me? Why do I-“

“Sh-sh-shh, all in good time.” The Master hushed, gently putting a single finger over the Doctor’s lips, “Don’t worry about this for now. Everything’s going perfectly.” He said, before turning around to open the door into the bedroom. 

Lucy was... still there, only now she was on top of the bed covers. She had changed into some black, lacy lingerie, and she had laid herself out on the bed like some piece of art. 

“Lucy likes to show-off.” The Master said, with a grin, throwing off his jacket. 

Lucy moved, her long legs stretching out like a cat’s. 

“She’s very entertaining, for a human at least.” He continued, sitting down in an arm chair.

The Doctor’s eyes flickered from the Master to Lucy. He was concerned for her. 

The Doctor cautiously sat down in nearby chair too. 

“Master...” Lucy murmured, her hand snaking up from her thigh to her hip, in what was clearly supposed to be a tantalising sort of way. 

“She knows how to play with me.” The Master said to the Doctor, with a smirk, ignoring her completely. “I think nowadays she just wants attention. A hit - an interference. A small escape from this hell of a life.” 

Lucy’s eyes were shut, and she was whining quietly and murmuring to herself, touching herself and occasionally squirming. It was like she was so far away from here - in her own world completely. It was highly disturbing. The Doctor hadn’t realised it had gotten this bad. The Master had (to be put extremely lightly), obviously really hurt her, and the Doctor felt disgusted. Not by Lucy, not at all, of course not. But disgusted by the Master?Definitely. 

Lucy had stilled now, scarily still in fact. She was staring blankly at the wall, and if it weren’t for the occasional blink, the Doctor would have thought she was dead. 

“Yeah, she goes like that.” The Master said, watching Lucy curiously, “She just... stops everything. It’s quite dull.”

The Doctor’s teeth were gritted now, and his nails were digging painfully into the arm rests. 

“You can try to comfort her, if you want.” The Master said, with a flick of a wrist in the general direction of Lucy, “I can see you want to help her.” 

“I wish I could. I wish I knew how.” The Doctor whispered. “I’m almost as lost as her in this hellhole.”

“Oh, my Doctor...” He chuckled, “Always wanting to save people.”

“You said I could try and help her?” The Doctor stood up, and tentatively moved closer to the bed. 

“Lucy.” He said, calmly, getting onto his knees at the side of the bed. Lucy’s eyes shifted from the wall to the Doctor. 

The Doctor’s hand was resting on the bed, and Lucy’s eyes focused on it. She was slowly reaching out to it, cautiously, as though she wasn’t sure if it were real or not. 

Panicking slightly, remembering that the Master was watching, the Doctor pulled his hand away before Lucy could touch it, and her arm simply went limp. She looked just as empty as before, as though she hadn’t expected any different. 

“You said-“ The Doctor worriedly glanced at the Master, “Before, you said no one could touch me. I don’t want you to hurt her.”

“I won’t.” The Master said, with a shrug, “She can touch you - she’s harmless. Don’t worry, my pets are allowed to touch each other.” 

The Doctor scowled, more to himself than anything, at the thought of being called a ‘pet.’

The Doctor put his hand over hers, making firm eye contact with her, checking for consent every moment. Lucy blinked at him, softly. She looked more relaxed than she did earlier. 

Then she pushed herself up by her elbows and leaned in to gently kiss him on the lips. It was a quick, but nice kiss. 

There was a lovely silence, where Lucy laid down again and simply stared into the Doctor’s eyes. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them. Certainly a bond - the Doctor could feel it.

“Well, that was rubbish. I’d give that a two out of ten, Doctor.” The Master said, loudly, breaking the peaceful atmosphere. “Even I could have given her a better kiss, and I’m probably a psychopath.” 

“What? Are you reviewing me now?” The Doctor snapped at him. 

“Yep! Always have, always will.” He replied, cheerfully. 

The Doctor sighed, looking at Lucy again, who had been looking at him. The Doctor swallowed, watching the way in which she was staring at him, so intently. 

She was then kissing him again, and the Doctor didn’t know what to do, so he just kissed her back, praying he was doing the right thing. He didn’t want to take advantage of her in this state. He only wanted to kiss her if she wanted to be kissed - if that would make her happy. 

Her hot tongue was then probing at his lips, so the Doctor parted his lips for her. She moaned, rather obscenely, like she was putting on a show, sitting up on her knees to put her arms around his neck.

“Wait.” The Doctor said, quietly, very gently pushing her away from him. 

What were they doing exactly? Because it felt like a show for the Master and the Doctor did not like that one bit. 

In fact, had the Master asked Lucy to do this? So he could enjoy watching his two ‘pets’ making love?

“Doctor...” Lucy murmured, beginning to kiss him on the neck again. Perhaps this was all completely fake. Maybe Lucy didn’t want to do this at all. There was an mutual attraction between them - the Doctor knew this. But this shouldn’t have been happening. Not now. Not ever probably. 

“I don’t believe you.” The Doctor said, quietly, “I don’t think this is what you want.” He paused, inhaling shakily, “I still want to help you. And if I continue - I’m not helping you, I’m just...” The Doctor added, glancing at the Master. “Playing along to his whims.”

Suddenly, the Doctor felt white hot rage coursing through him. He didn’t usually lose his cool like this. But what the Master was doing... what he had been doing for months, was quite frankly, despicable. It was starting to get to him, in a way he hasn’t experienced before.

It felt as though the Master had been poking at a wound for so long, the Doctor had thought it was harmless. But now... Now the wound was infected. The Doctor had an infection. An infection which would only get worse, and grow, and spread.


	32. My Lovely

It was quiet. The Doctor was laying in bed, in the dark, and as usual, the Master had placed himself by the Doctor’s side. They were so close they were touching, and the Doctor almost wanted to move away - but didn’t have the strength to.

The Master had simply laughed when the Doctor had moved away from Lucy. He had moved away, and sat down in an armchair, silently, for the entire rest of the evening. He had nothing better to do - it was probably the best thing he could do anyway, in this place. Luckily the Master didn’t seem to mind the Doctor’s silence and sudden withdrawal, and he allowed it to continue. He even left the room, busying himself with whatever evil he did these days.

Lucy had got off the bed, and moved herself into the corner of the room. She sat there for hours, tears streaming down her face. She had been shivering there, huddled in the corner, in only her lingerie. The Doctor brought over a blanket, but Lucy had pushed it away, refusing to take it, saying the Master would be back soon. It didn’t make a lot of sense - it wasn’t as if the Master had banned blankets.

The Doctor had come to the conclusion that himself and Lucy were thoroughly messed up. And that was an understatement.

He had checked the door, to find it was locked. He also knew there were armed guards outside, so there was no point in breaking the lock.

It wasn’t as if the Master was going to be too pleased with him at the moment. Unsurprisingly, he wouldn’t be allowed the luxury of going where he liked. But at least his friends weren’t being hurt... or at least, hurt more than usual. The Master would have definitely let the Doctor know if he was torturing his friends. Otherwise, what would be the point? It was all to hurt him, anyway.

Eventually, the Doctor had given up on comforting Lucy, feeling thoroughly hopeless himself. He got into bed, hoping to just sleep Lucy’s sobs away.

Hours later the Master had returned, and completely ignoring the wrecked Lucy on the ground, he climbed into the bed with the Doctor, putting an arm around him in a way that could only now be interpreted as possessive.

“Hello, my _lovely_ breeder.” The Master had whispered in his ear. The Doctor had attempted to get out of his grasp then - fall onto the floor and off the bed of needs be. But the Master had simply held him tighter, and he came to the conclusion that resisting was useless. Even if he did beat the Master by strength, the Master had soldiers just outside the door - ready to force the Doctor into whatever position the Master wanted.

The Master’s hand was stroking up the Doctor’s torso. He had slipped his hand underneath the duvet and the Doctor’s t-shirt to feel his bare skin. “You’re very skinny.” He noted, his finger tips tracing across the Doctor’s ribcage, “You need to be healthy if you’re going to carry my child. I will have to check this tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.” The Doctor said, through gritted teeth. “Besides, it’s not your child, it’s _ours_.”

“ _Yesss_.” He hissed, happily, “ _Ours_.” He repeated, kissing him on the shoulder with a small nip. The Doctor shuddered, unable to hold back his immediate reaction, and the Master just held him tighter, “ _Shh_ , relax now...”

“It’s rather difficult to relax considering the circumstances.” The Doctor replied, tensely.

“You don’t need to worry. You’re safe. You’re mine. I’ll keep you safe.” The Master said, in a soothing tone, “And life will only get better for you - the more you accept you’re mine - the more you obey me, the more you please me...”

“I don’t want this...” The Doctor whined, quietly, giving him a slight push to signal he wanted the Master to let go of him.

“You will want it, though.” The Master said, not releasing his hold of him, “When you’ve birthed the new Time Lord race... When the new Time Lords are back in the heavens... our children.”

“No, Master. You’re wrong. _This_ is _wrong_.”

“You slaughtered them all. Surely it’s your duty to bring them back now?” The Master said, nastily.

All of a sudden the Doctor realised his vision was clouded by tears. He shut his eyes, feeling one single tear fall down his cheek.

“Oh, _Doctor_ ,” the Master sighed, cuddling closer into the back of him, “We are going to have to talk about your disobedience soon, and your worrying lack of respect... Tomorrow, let’s do that. I think with all my kindness you have forgotten your _place_?” The Master’s fingers were trailing across the Doctor’s neck now, and the Doctor felt majorly uncomfortable. Was he going to be strangled?

The Master’s hands thankfully moved away from his neck, to rest on his torso. Any touch at all still made the Doctor anxious.

The Doctor still managed to relax a little bit, with a small exhale of a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

But to the Doctor’s surprise, he cried out, as the Master’s teeth sank hard into his neck.

He remembered the last time this had happened... Well, it had been yesterday, after all. That was strange... It didn’t feel like yesterday, it felt like weeks ago.

But everything was going hazy. The Master’s Alpha pheromones had entered his bloodstream now, and the Doctor could feel it going straight to his head.

This wasn’t entirely surprising, the Doctor thought, as his limp body was shifted onto his front. He was still on heat, and the Master would want to fuck him everyday until it was over to make sure he was successfully gestating.

Somewhere along the way, the Master must have taken off his clothes. But the Doctor could hardly remember with his eyes shut, as the Master’s hips slammed into him with each entrance.

The Doctor was starting to feel an unwanted pleasure from the experience. He could feel it, in his head, clouding the truth.

He moaned especially loudly, before hastily putting his hand over his mouth, completely humiliated. He hated this. He hated how much the Master could control him. _Just one bite_ and he had been ruined.

The Master stopped abruptly, stilled completely, and the Doctor could only muffle the whine which came straight from his throat. He squirmed slightly, rocking his hips in an attempt to get it started again.

“Gosh, you really are desperate, aren’t you?” He heard the Master say, cruelly.

“Please...”

“Please what? What do you want? Say it, Doctor. Tell your Master what you want.” He snarled.

“Please continue... _please_.” The Doctor whispered,

“You’re going to have to try harder than that!” The Master barked, laughing.

“Please, Master.”

“Getting better...” He murmured, close to his ear, before nibbling on it a little, “Still not there though, yet.”

The Doctor groaned, squirming and trying to get the Master off him. Perhaps if he could, he might be able to clear his head - make some sense.

“ _Master_...” He sobbed, panting heavily, “I want you to- I need you to- Please, just go! More, please, Master.... _just more_...”

The Master began to push into him again, painfully slowly, “I-I _need_ you inside me, I _want_ , I-“ A jumble of words fell out of the Doctor’s mouth, desperately.

Finally, the Master’s pace sped up, obviously satisfied by what the Doctor had said. At this, the Doctor cried in relief.

He came not too long later, with a scream, his legs shaking and his hips practically spasming. The Master came afterwards, with a long and loud sigh, filling the Doctor up with his seed.

The Doctor just lay there, weakly, as the Master rolled off him.


	33. Kneel

The Master isn’t there when the Doctor wakes up. Neither is Lucy. 

The Doctor stood up immediately, checking to see whether the door was locked. It was.

“Oh,” he muttered. 

He found his clothes, which were strewn across the floor, and sitting down on the bed, he pulled them on.

The events of last night were starting to become clearer in the Doctor’s head. He sighed, resting his chin in his hand as he stared blankly into the distance. 

Depressed. No other way to describe the way he was feeling. It was far deeper and complex and inescapable than regular sadness. 

He felt across the skin of his neck, it was tender. The last bite wound from a couple of days ago had only just healed, and now he had another fresh one replacing it, from last night’s madness. 

He felt marked... Used. Like the Master’s property. Nothing more. A vessel for the Master’s whims: his want for children, his pleasure, his need for control over the Doctor. 

The Master returned an hour later, striding into the room, the Doctor getting up hastily.

“Hello Doctor.” He said calmly, as two men followed him into the room. 

“What do you want?”

“And how is that an appropriate way to greet your Master?” He asked, smiling devilishly. “Kneel.”

“What?”

“I said kneel.” He repeated, danger in his voice now. 

“No?” The Doctor replied, in bewilderment, angry that the Master had even thought to ask. 

“Get him to kneel.” The Master said coldly to the two men, and next the Doctor was being pushed roughly to the ground, onto his knees. 

“Much better.” The Master sighed, pleasantly. “As I said to you last night, Doctor, your lack of respect is becoming a problem. I intend to fix that, and I will.”

The Master slowly bent down, the Doctor and him were face-to-face. “We need to run a few tests on you today,” He said, unusually softly, “Check your health - make sure you’re in good condition, to carry my child.” He paused, “I assume you’re going to come willingly, without a fuss? You wouldn’t want those men to have to force you, would you? I think I’ll have to kill them, for touching you again, of course. A shame. I do rather like this rug.”

“I won’t make a fuss.” The Doctor said, quietly. “Where’s Lucy?” He asked, abruptly. 

“Lucy?” The Master chuckled, “Oh, don’t worry your precious little head about her. She’s doing just fine. Now, come with me. Without a fuss, like my good, obedient Omega, yes?”

The Doctor nodded, ignoring the hot, flash of anger at being called an Omega in such a patronising way. Like he was lesser because of it. When he wasn’t. He was so much more than him. 

The Master walked to the door, expecting the Doctor to follow him. 

He turned, confused to find the Doctor still kneeling on the ground. 

The Doctor pulled a large, angry, over the top and obviously fake smile at the Master. 

“Do I have permission to get off the ground, please, Master?” The Doctor asked, through gritted teeth.

“How lovely,” He smiled, genuinely, his eyes raking over the Doctor in a proud sort of way, “Yes, you may, Doctor.” 

The Doctor stood up, exiting the room with the Master closely by his side. 

They reached a medical room, and the Doctor quickly noticed the two men were still following in behind them. It made the Doctor feel queasy. The Master still didn’t entirely trust the Doctor to do everything willingly, which suggested that the Doctor was probably not going to like what was to happen. 

“Lie-down, Doctor.” The Master said calmly, a hand on his hip, glancing towards a clean, white-sheeted bed. 

Another door opened, on the other side of the room, and a woman walked in. She was a brunette, her hair styled into a neat up-do. She was wearing a white coat too, the kind a human doctor would wear. 

“Just lie-down.” The Master repeated, sharply, perhaps noticing the Doctor looking on-edge, warily eyeing the new woman who had just entered. 

The Doctor looked down at the bed. There were straps attached to it, where his ankles and wrists would lay. He looked back up at the Master, and giving in, realising he had no other options anyway, the Doctor got onto the it. 

Laying down now, the Doctor jumped slightly and struggled briefly, as the woman’s hands were pulling his ankles down and securing them in the straps. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill her.” He sighed, exasperatingly, “Or I might actually, if she ends up disappointing me.” He added, irritably, “But yes, she has full permission to touch you.” The Master said, answering the unspoken question that had popped into the Doctor’s head, “She’s basically acting as me today, because I don’t fancy getting my hands dirty.” He said, casually. 

Next the Doctor’s wrists were being secured, and the only parts of the Doctor’s body he could successfully move was his torso and his head. 

“You’re not going to disappoint me, are you?” He asked the woman, with an air of casualness that did not suit the atmosphere, nor the carefully chosen threat in the Master’s words. 

“No, Mr Saxon. Of course not.” She uttered, in a rush, bowing her head down to look at the floor. 

“Why have I been restrained?” The Doctor asked, loudly, feeling the woman’s pain and attempting to remove the Master’s attention on her. The more she went unnoticed by the Master, the better. Hopefully, that would reduce her risk of becoming a dismembered corpse.

“Ah, Doctor. Why? For fun, of course!” He chuckled, “I do enjoy seeing you helpless.”

The Doctor swallowed, almost guiltily, images of the last few nights they had shared flashing before his eyes. He looked away from the Master, turning his head to the side. The Master laughed quietly at this, as though he had picked up on the Doctor’s awkwardness. 

“You might try and squirm a bit too...” The Master continued, his face screwing up at the thought, “Hopefully we’ll remember to anaesthetise you, especially during the painful parts. But you know me! - So forgetful sometimes!” He giggled, maniacally. Something in the Doctor’s stomach dropped. He didn’t dare look the Master in the eye, concerned that the Master would see fear there. 

The Doctor hissed in pain, mainly at the shock of it, as the woman plunged a particularly large-feeling needle into his arm. She seemed to be taking his blood. She pulled it out, taking a quick look at it, before placing it away sterilely. 

“Blood test results should be obtained within the next three to six hours, sir.” The woman said.

He nodded, ignoring her mostly, his eyes focused on the very still Doctor. His breathing was quicker than normal though, the small rise and fall of his chest. “I suggest we anaesthetise him for the next part.” The woman added, “From what I understand about his biology, being distantly similar to a human’s, this process will be significantly... unpleasant.”

“What do you think, Doctor? Should I put you to sleep, or make you suffer through it?”

The Doctor kept quiet. He wasn’t going to beg for anything. He was just going to keep silent, and let the sick bastard decide, just as he would have anyway, whether the Doctor had spoken or not. 

“It would be a suitable punishment for your recent... boldness.” The Master continued, thoughtfully, scratching his chin. “Yes, I think this will do nicely.” He said finally, with a smirk. 

Something in the pit of the Doctor’s stomach sank. 

“Sir?” The woman asked, looking nervous. 

“Don’t give it to him yet. I’ll tell you when to.”

The woman was oddly still, frozen. She had been about to pick up the needle to anaesthetise him. 

“Well, don’t just stand there.” The Master snapped, “Get on with it.”

Hesitantly, the woman picked up a scalpel, and the Doctor inwardly groaned.

The Doctor bared his teeth, his jaw tensing up as the woman drew nearer. He didn’t want to scream. He was going to keep quiet if he could help it. 

The woman was lifting his top now. Shutting his eyes, the Doctor felt the knife penetrate somewhere on his lower abdomen. She was cutting a slit across the whole of it, and it seemed to last an eternity. It was deep too, cutting through his skin like butter. Half way through, the Doctor shouted out as he fought to keep himself still. The woman visibly cowered at the Doctor’s show of pain, and the Master presumably threatened her before she continued. 

Surely nearing the end now, he couldn’t hold back the scream that escaped his throat. His body jerked as much as it could, being held securely in place by straps. 

He must have passed out for only a second or two, as when he was next conscious the pain had suddenly stopped, replaced by a dull, nasty throbbing. 

Managing to shift his attention from his rather horrible wound, the Doctor looked up at the Master. He had a small smile on his face, and he was looking down at the Doctor like he was the most precious thing in the whole-wide-universe. 

The Doctor felt an extremely odd sense of pride flare up, inside of him. It was a warm, comforting sort of feeling, starting in his tummy and spreading through his body, all the way down to the tips of his toes.

He very quickly ushered that feeling away, confused and revolted and afraid, as to why he would ever feel proud due to the Master’s pleasure. 

The Master nodded to the woman, and a needle was being pushed into him. The Doctor waited for the effects, blinking up at the Master. He was a little relieved to be put under now. 

Quickly, everything went hazy, and each time he blinked it was harder to open them again. 

Everything went... black. Or into nothingness. There was nothing.


	34. Crimson Velvet Sheets

When the Doctor next opened his eyes, he immediately noticed the Master, sitting on the side of the bed, staring down at him.

Sitting up, the Doctor realised he had been moved into an entirely different room. He was covered in familiar, crimson, velvet sheets. He was no longer in the medical room, but in the Master’s bedroom.

“It’s _okay_.” The Master said, soothingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and firmly guiding him back down to rest, “You’ve just been asleep.”

The Doctor allowed himself to be laid back down. His head hurt, and the pillow did make it slightly easier. He looked at his arm, seeing a needle -

“What’s that-“

“Just fluids. Nutrients. That’s all.” The Master replied, stroking his fingers through the Doctor’s hair. “We should really get this cut... It’s growing out.”

The Doctor winced, feeling a twinge of pain in his lower abdomen when he tried to shift position slightly. He was about to ask exactly what had happened whilst he had been under, but feeling nauseous from the anaesthesia, he decided to disregard the pain for now and keep quiet, in favour of shutting his eyes.

“Oh, are you _tired_?” The Master asked, softly, with a sigh, in a way that could be interpreted as... tenderly, lovingly?

“A bit.” The Doctor murmured, keeping his eyes shut, “I mainly just feel sick. And I have a headache too.”

“ _It will pass_.” The Master said, firmly.

The Doctor blearily opened his eyes to see the Master pushing a glass of water into the Doctor’s hands. Or at least it looked like water, the Doctor thought, giving it a sniff. But he really didn’t care, and feeling thirsty anyway, the Doctor drank.

“Should help with the healing process.” The Master said, quietly, taking the empty glass from him and putting it on the side table.

“ _Mhm_ ,” The Doctor hummed, his hand absently finding the Master’s and holding onto it. Unknown to the Doctor whose eyes were currently shut, a small smile played the Master’s lips now.

Curious now, the Master carefully lay down next to him, hand still held in his. He could just stare like this - _watch the Doctor sleep_. It was rare to see the Doctor looking so peaceful. The Doctor shuffled closer, tucking his head next to the Master’s warm chest.

It felt good, having the Doctor like this. Some primitive part of the Master’s brain was purring happily at having the Doctor so near to him, under his protection.

The Doctor’s mind was more open to him than usual. The many walls of security and protection, hiding the Doctor’s thoughts and feelings, had been lowered a little.

The Master could sense the Doctor was content in some ways. He felt safe and warm and comfortable.

But there was also sadness there. A sadness the Master couldn’t fully see or comprehend - thoughts and feelings that were still unavailable, things the Doctor was hiding or blocking from the Master.

After a little while, the Doctor had fallen asleep again, which was understandable.

It was nice, being able to stroke through the Doctor’s hair, care for him, without any of his usual objections. He was unusually still and quiet as he slept, probably side-effects of the drug used to put him to sleep earlier.

The Master was glad to have a break from the Doctor’s incessant worries about Lucy. It seemed like he had forgotten about her for now, or at least decided he shouldn’t bring her up, which the Master was pleased with. He didn’t want the Doctor to worry about Lucy, he wanted the Doctor to worry about him - want to please him.

Slowly, the Doctor was listening to him, obeying him, respecting him. Maybe even loving him. It was getting easier to manipulate the Doctor now: tweak him, guide him, steer him in the right direction, the direction the Master wanted. Probably because the Doctor was mated to the Master now, it was easier for him to get into his head. The Doctor would be loyal to him now, naturally, perhaps even out of the Doctor’s own control.

An hour later or so, the Doctor’s eyes blinked slowly open. Their eyes met, instantly, the Doctor looking up at him through his eyelashes. The Doctor’s lips were parted a little too, and he looked utterly delectable like this, laying beside him, all ready for his Master.

There was definitely lust there, in the Doctor’s eyes and mind. The Master could sense it, and he smiled at the Doctor.

The Doctor felt an unwanted sense of joy and fulfilment, at the Master’s smile - his validation. Anger and guilt then took over any feelings of happiness. The Doctor was furious at himself, for being such a slave to his Omega instincts.

The Master watched as that infectious desire on the Doctor’s face disappeared in an instant, replaced with nothing but sadness. The Doctor sighed quietly, rolling onto his other side, faced away from the Master.

“What is it?” The Master asked, softly, brushing the gentle back-of-his-hand against the Doctor’s cheek.

“You _know_.” The Doctor replied, firmly, fighting against the strong urge to lean into the Master’s touch.

“No, I don’t...” The Master whispered, slowly, moving in closer so his breath was touching the back of the Doctor’s neck. “Tell me.” He added, this time commanding it.

“You’re _controlling_ me. You’re using my own _biology_ against me.”

“So?” The Master responded, irritably.

They were mated to each other now, and all the time, the Doctor’s body - the chemicals that effected his brain even, were changing to suit the Master. The Doctor would feel instincts and urges that were completely against his own sense of self. Urges to care for the Master, urges to let go of his own core beliefs and morals in favour of pleasing the Master.

That was exactly why you were not supposed to mate with someone controlling, like the Master. And yet he had. Without his consent, the Master had taken him.

“Of course. You can’t see a problem with that, I suppose?” The Doctor snapped.

“Nope.” The Master said, smiling, “I felt your happiness when you gave into it. When you just... let yourself be. It’s so satisfying - for the both of us.” He continued, murmuring against the Doctor’s skin, “Just do what _feels_ good. Don’t feel guilty.”

“Even if it means losing myself?” _Just becoming yours,_ he thought, unspoken.

“Yes.” The Master whispered, “You’ll be so much happier when you stop fighting it!” He sighed. “It’s a win-win situation, for me and you. I’m bored of your internal struggle.”

The Doctor sat up. “What day even is it?” The Doctor asked, scratching his chin absently, noticing the stubble which had grown after not shaving in a while. The last time he had shaved had been... how many days ago?

“Tuesday.” The Master said, with a small yawn.

“Did you just make that up?” The Doctor questioned, irritably, sensing the obvious lie through their bond.

“Obviously.” He replied, simply, with a roll of his eyes, “I really couldn’t care less as to what meaningless human day it is. _And_ neither should you. But if you really want to know, it has been three hundred and fifty one days since you were incarcerated here.”

The Doctor swallowed, holding back the tears which threatened to run down his cheeks.

Only fourteen days until the countdown. That meant something had gone terribly wrong. The plan. Martha Jones’ mission to save the world.

The Doctor couldn’t sense what should be hundreds of thousands of people all with his name in their minds, all connected to the Archangel Network. There were some, sure. But not nearly enough. Not enough to overthrow the Master. What had happened to Martha? Was she safe? Was she dead?

“You _count_ the days?” The Doctor managed to say, gruffly, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t need to count.” He spat, as though he was offended, “Unlike you, I’m still a competent Time Lord, completely synced with the passing of time. Whereas you... you’re just my pretty little pet now - all you need to focus on is pleasing me.” He paused, shifting position on the bed, “Which reminds me - come now. I want you to be in my arms, right here. Lay down.”

The Doctor slowly did as he said.

“ _Facing me_.” The Master ordered, coldly.

The Doctor shut his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine he was far away from here. Trying to find some peace and solitude somewhere.

The Doctor turned onto his other side, so they were chest to chest. Their noses would be touching, if it weren’t for the Doctor bowing his head slightly, looking anywhere but into the Master’s eyes.

The Doctor shuddered as the Master’s fingers slowly trailed up his back, a tingling, horrible shiver running down his spine.

“You’re being ridiculous, Doctor.” The Master muttered darkly, with a short, bark of a laugh, “This could be perfectly enjoyable for you too, you know. You’re the one who chooses to make it this way. If you remember, it wasn’t too long ago when we lay like this and you liked it.”

The words from the other night rang through the Doctor’s head:

_“You know you’re mine.” The Master had purred, squeezing him tighter, “I’ve taken you. Claimed you. And soon you’re going to be filled with me...” He continued, his hand drifting lower to the Doctor’s abdomen, and keeping it there, firmly. “You know you should be pushing me away right now, but you can’t. You need your Alpha. You need me.”_

The Doctor remembered sighing pleasantly, relaxing into the Master’s touch - giving into everything the Master was saying like it was the truth. _And it had felt good. The Master was right._


	35. Sickness

The Doctor awoke, trembling, feeling violently sick. Getting up, he pushed the Master off him and ran into the bathroom.

He retched a few times, nothing but water and acid from his empty stomach coming up.

He heard footsteps behind him, and looked around to see the Master leaning against the doorway, staring at the Doctor with a mildly curious and concerned look on his face.

The Doctor exhaled, shakily, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Supporting his weight on the sink, he positioned himself over the toilet to vomit again, feeling another surge of sickness. Only acid came out again, which burned his throat horribly.

The sour taste left in his mouth was making him feel even more nauseas, so he quickly took some mouthwash and spat it out again.

“You alright?” The Master said, something which sounded so alien coming out of his mouth, it was almost comical. The Doctor would have laughed, if it weren’t for the concern he would just vomit again.

“ _Yes_.” The Doctor breathed, a slight smile on his lips, despite the rest of his face looking rather pained. The Doctor shut his eyes momentarily, focusing on keeping his breathing even and fighting off the nausea. The Doctor sank down to the cold floor, needing to sit down for a bit.

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find that the Master was kneeling down with him, at the same level as him, his brows furrowed in a gentle sort of worry.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The Master repeated, more softly, a hand reaching out to stroke the Doctor’s hair. The Doctor watched, transfixed, lost for words as he tried to comprehend the Master’s strangely affectionate behaviour. Perhaps he was trying to make up for being such a bastard in the last couple of days. To earn the Doctor’s love or affection or attention or whatever sick thing he wanted.

“Yes.” The Doctor said, nodding, carefully analysing every detail of the Master’s face. It looked genuine. But didn’t it always? “Just a bit sick.”

“I’m _sorry_... That must _feel_ _so strange_.” The Master said, sadly, and it sounded real, like he was actually sorry for the Doctor.

He was right. It did feel strange. Time Lords didn’t get sick. But neither did Time Lords have sex and try to procreate like animals. They probably hadn’t attempted something like that for hundreds of thousands of years, who’s to say it didn’t work anymore? Was the Doctor going to die during this process? Regenerate, and kill the child with the blast at the same time? He didn’t want to be in anyway responsible for the death of another one of his kind.

Well, they didn’t even know if he was with child yet or not. The Doctor just assumed. It seemed likely due to the various... activities in the last week, and the fact he was now ill. (Something that never happened to Time Lords).

The Doctor sighed through his nose, his head bowed and eyes focused on his own feet as he worried quietly. A soft hand reached out to touch the Doctor’s jaw and chin then cheek. The Doctor looked up, to see oddly kind eyes staring into his. This kindness couldn’t be genuine. At least not in the way the Doctor believed in kindness. It was the Master’s twisted version of it. And yet... it still managed to make the Doctor feel warmer.

“I swear, whatever happens, we’ll be ready for it. You don’t need to worry.” The Master said, soothingly, “Just relax. _Rest_ , even, if you can.”

The Doctor nodded slowly, unsurely, like he didn’t know whether he was responding correctly.

The Master stood up from his kneeling position and the Doctor heard a tap running. He waited, and only a few moments latter, the Master was kneeling down again and putting a glass of water into the Doctor’s hands.

“Drink.” and the Doctor drank it all. “Good,” the Master hummed, taking the empty glass from him.

The illness had momentarily distracted the Doctor. He had forgotten about last night - the things he had realised. Martha Jones’ mission, to travel the world and speak of his name, was failing. Maybe, even failed, perhaps it was too late.

The Master stood up again, before bending down and outstretching him arm to help lift the Doctor up. The Doctor accepted the help, taking the Master’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up onto his feet again.

“Have you heard of Martha Jones, recently?” The Doctor asked him, feeling nervous but hiding it fairly well.

“ _No_...” the Master said, after a long pause, staring at the Doctor intently, like he was looking for something.

Of course. The Master would have told him if he had found Martha’s corpse. That would be just too exciting to keep to himself.

“No sign of her since Japan. Oh, and that brief video recording I showed you, of course.” The Master said, calmly, pacing - an excellent excuse to briefly turn his back on the Doctor so he could smirk to himself. “ _Very_ boring, really.” The Master added.

Had Martha actually been killed?

“Anyway,” the Master said, way too cheerfully, “Let’s get you cleaned up then, hey?”


	36. Involving You

Even after everything he had ever been through with the Master, he had not expected this.

He was stripping his clothes off, shivering slightly in the cold, as the Master... examined him? There was a dark, hungry look in his eyes that made the Doctor particularly uncomfortable.

He was then moving closer, bending his knees to sink down lower, to look at his abdomen. Feeling self-conscious, the Doctor had a look too. But there was nothing remarkable about it. It hadn’t changed at all. He did remember feeling a pain in it yesterday though, after the anaesthesia.

“What are you looking at?”

“It’s nothing, really.” The Master muttered, standing up to give the Doctor a soft kiss on the temple.

“ _Master_...” the Doctor tried, more pleadingly.

The Master visibly and audibly inhaled sharply at this, then bit his lip with a small, coy smile, “I do like it when you use my name.”

“Would you please tell me: what did you do to me when I was out of it, yesterday, under the anaesthesia? I was going to ask, but then I fell asleep.”

“Simply a checkup. _Well_ , bit more than a check up, obviously. We cut into you, looked inside you, checked that everything was normal.” With the Doctor’s especially fast healing abilities, the incision was completely gone now, not even a scar.

“The... baby?” The Doctor asked, quietly.

“Pretty early to tell.” The Master chuckled.

“Yeah, I know but, _anything_?-“

“Impossible to tell yet.” The Master said, more gently, “Not a fetus yet. We don’t even know if you’ve started gestating yet. Your ectospleen should deflate soon though, if you are expecting. Hm. Might have to fuck you a few more times. You know, just to make sure.”

The Doctor swallowed, trying not to think about hot vulnerable he was right now, just standing there, naked.

“You don’t have to.” The Doctor said, finally, albeit a bit quietly, “I’ve been sick for the first time in nine hundred years. Thats gotta be a sign.”

“Hm, maybe.” The Master considered, now smiling, “Oh, now that would be lovely.” He said, with the slightest lick of his lips. The Master moved closer, and the only thing stopping the Doctor from backing away further was the cold, stone-tiled bathroom walls.

The Master lowered his head a little, so his lips could touch the Doctor’s shoulder. But instead, with a small shudder, the Doctor felt the Master’s teeth lightly scraping across his skin. Hardly hearing himself, the Doctor sighed happily at contact. Only a moment ago, the Doctor had wanted to get as far away from the Master as possible. Now, all the Doctor wanted to do was to get as close to him as possible. He was still on heat then, definitely.

The Doctor’s lips found the Master’s neck, uncaring of the outcome, of how much he would regret this afterwards. For now, all he wanted to do was enjoy this. It was practically irresistible anyway, he could hardly stop himself. So damn the consequences.

The Doctor was being pinned against the wall now, their bodies colliding and pushing closer into each other, as they smothered each other with frantic kisses.

“I - I’m getting distracted.” The Master breathed, smiling, stepping away from the Doctor to end the _frenzy_. He inhaled deeply through his nose, revelling in the pleasant scent of his Omega on heat, “Wow. It’s so _strong_...” He murmured, running a hand across the Doctor’s chest, “I did _not_ mean to do that.” He laughed, breathlessly.

The Master felt something tense in his stomach, arousal it must have been, building up again, as his eyes locked onto the Doctor’s.

The Doctor’s face and neck and shoulders were shining, visibly wet from the Master’s mouth. There were areas that were reddening too, where the Master had been particularly rough.

“I said we’d give you a wash now.” The Master said softly, with a laugh.

Next the Master was removing his clothes too, and they were stepping into the shower together.

The Master squeezed a palmful of shampoo into his hand, then began to massage it into the Doctor’s scalp.

The Doctor sighed, leaning back, further into the Master’s touch.

“You like that?” The Master whispered, grinning.

The Doctor nodded and hummed in reply. It felt so incredibly good to let the Master, his Alpha now, look after him. “I can cut your hair afterwards as well, if you like.”

“Yes, _please_.” The Doctor sighed.

Once the Master had finished washing the Doctor’s hair, he began to soap his body.

The Doctor caught his hands, just as they were drifting lower, and placed them on his hips. Their hands moved, together, as the Master slowly massaged circles into the Doctor’s skin.

The Doctor gasped quietly. Half of him wanted to turn around, to see the Master, _to touch him, to kiss him._ But the other half was content to continue standing there, just basking in the delightful feeling of having the Master’s hands on his body. Something about having the Master’s full attention on him was sending pleasurable shivers through his core.

They finished together and stepped out of the shower. The Master, with unimaginable tenderness, wrapped a warm, white fluffy towel around him. The Doctor found himself unable to function for a few moments, just staring back at the Master.

  
Was he surprised by all of this? _Touched_ , even? He knew he shouldn’t be: this whole thing was built on evil. But at the same time, he was. And he couldn’t help that.

Afterwards, the Master cut his hair. It was identical to how it used to look, before the Valiant. At least he had some reminder of the times before this prison. But was it a bad prison, for him, at least? The Doctor quickly moved away from these thoughts. The idea of accepting this place was _beyond_ horrific - _the old him would never do that!_

The Master put a silky piece of clothing into the Doctor’s hands and he then put it on automatically, not even thinking to argue.

Only when the Doctor was wearing it and spotted himself in a mirror, did his own opinion form. It was a navy blue silk robe, which was actually pretty comfortable. He looked _good_ too. More than good, actually, if he was feeling cocky.

The V-neck meant his lithe, but fit chest was visible. His hair was still damp from the shower, appearing darker than usual, freshly cut and full of volume. The contrast between his pale skin and dark hair looked strangely _alluring_ \- (and the Doctor was looking at _himself_!)

The Doctor turned away from the mirror abruptly, confused. He had been staring at himself for an embarrassingly long time. That really wasn’t like him at all. Nor did he ever look in the mirror and admire himself.

The Doctor glanced at his feet guiltily, and as if the Master knew, he smirked.

“I’ve been feeling different, recently, and I’m concerned.” The Doctor admitted heavily, sitting down on the counter.

“What’s wrong with different?”

“Nothing, normally.” The Doctor replied, hastily, “ _Except it involves you_.”


	37. Congratulations

The Doctor pushed himself off the bathroom counter where he had been sitting.

Martha Jones had popped into his head, sharply reminding him of his plan that had involved her, his plan to save the world. It looked like that wasn’t happening anymore.

The Doctor could tell the Master that he believed Martha to be dead, but that would only cheer the Master up, which he didn’t want particularly.

Besides, if he didn’t fell the Master, maybe it wasn’t true? He could pretend, at least, for his own sanity.

The Master still hadn’t responded to the last thing the Doctor had said, but he was sort of glad. Instead, the Doctor could see the Master staring at him in his peripheral vision. He didn’t dare look the Master in the eyes, he just couldn’t at the moment.

He needed a break from the Master. Maybe that was it. They had even showered together, after all.

The Doctor quietly made his way to the bathroom door, to exit. Just as he was about to turn the door knob, the Master grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. The Doctor hissed in pain, as his head hit the wall with a very loud thump.

“Don’t go... Don’t be _sad_...” The Master whined, a strange expression on his face as he tilted his head - _was that compassion?_

“Well next time, maybe you shouldn’t slam me against the wall.” The Doctor said, wincing, reaching up to feel the back of his head.

“Sorry- _sorry_ ,” The Master said, hastily, taking the Doctor’s hands away and inspecting the back of his head for himself. “Just a bruise I should think.” He said, with a small smile, “I’ve made everything right for you though, haven’t I? I cleaned you, I fed you... I- I pleasured you!” He continued, desperately, like he was begging.

In a flash, the Master’s distressed demeanour disappeared, replaced by fury, “ _I’ve given you everything!_ ” He shouted, loudly and violently, his blood boiling, his hands shaking with rage.

“Except freedom.” The Doctor snapped back, coldly, feeling more saddened then angry.

“Freedom’s overrated.” The Master smirked, with a shrug, releasing the Doctor from his grasp.

In that instance, it was like they had gone back to exactly how they were. The Doctor could almost feel the Master’s hands on his body, his lips on his neck, letting the warm water of the shower run down their sin as they basked in each other’s company.

The Doctor smiled at the Master, almost giddily, and even he was shocked by his behaviour - he was acting unhinged.

Maybe he didn’t mind not having freedom.

The Doctor knew his sudden change in mood made no sense, but he found himself not caring at all. It was almost as if he had been hypnotised, though he knew this was completely impossible.

Maybe he was going mad.

If Martha was dead, if the Earth was doomed, then the Master was the only thing the Doctor had left. He could not lose the Master too. That wasn’t an option. That would not and could not happen.

Perhaps he could accept his life with the Master.

The Master sighed wearily, pulling the Doctor into a surprisingly warm-feeling embrace. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” He said, softly, stroking the Doctor’s hair.

The Doctor was distantly aware that it was just the Master’s Alpha hormones which were making him so caring. It was a base instinct - to look after and protect their mare. But still, it was nice to believe it might have been coming from somewhere within the Master’s black and rotting heart. “I feel like you need more to do during the day, when I’m not around...”

“Okay.” The Doctor whispered,

“But I don’t want you interfering with any of my business. You’re not to touch the Earth - you’ll just end up saving it.

“Okay.” The Doctor repeated, quietly, burying his head into the Master’s shoulder. He inhaled deeply through his nose, and felt a little light-headed from the Master’s Alpha scent. It was a nice light-headedness though.

“You could look after Lucy.”

“I suppose.”

“What? I thought you liked babysitting your little humans?” He laughed, sensing the Doctor’s reluctance, “ _Cuddling_ them, _petting_ them; making them all _better_ again with your special _Doctor_ powers? Hm?”

“I don’t know. I mean... I could.”

“Is she not to your taste then, is that it? Would you prefer a redhead?”

It was like the Master was offering him a pet - asking him to choose which colour to purchase a new puppy in.

“I don’t... _mind_.” The Doctor finished, lamely.

“Hm. Well, you don’t need to decide now.” He replied, moving out of their embrace to pop a quick kiss onto the Doctor’s nose.

It would be nice to see the Tardis again, the Doctor though, randomly. Fix her up, make her well again. She was being used as a paradox machine at the moment, which must be horrible for her.

“Come with me. A change of scenery at least.” The Master said, interrupting the Doctor’s thoughts.

“Where?” The Doctor asked, puzzled.

“I have work to do, and I don’t want to leave you unattended. It doesn’t do you well.”

“ _Work_?”

“Yes, _work_.” The Master snapped, “What do you think I’m doing when I’m not with you? Are you coming, or not?”

“ _Yes_.” The Doctor replied, hurriedly, not wanting to be left alone.

The Master held his hand out to him, and the Doctor took it. He felt happy. He actually had somewhere to go, something to do, something to distract himself.

The Master guided him through the hallways, hand in his. They reached a small, cozy room with a fireplace, and the Master went to sit down in the chair at the desk. He picked up a small tablet, and was soon tapping away on it, paying no interest to the Doctor whatsoever.

The Doctor stood their awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He felt strangely annoyed by the Master’s lack of attention, which was very odd. He didn’t used to feel like that, ever.

“Come. Sit.”

There wasn’t another chair. The Doctor stood still, feeling downhearted all over again. “I said sit down.” The Master repeated, sharply.

The Doctor moved closer, “What, here?” He asked, glancing at the ground by the Master’s feet.

“Mm-hm.” The Master nodded, with a smile.

Begrudgingly, the Doctor sat down by the Master’s feet.

He must have been sitting there for hours, too tired to produce any tears. He just felt sick. Not nauseas especially, just _sick_ , like there was something _wrong_ with him. _With this._

Occasionally the Master patted him on the head, or praised him for being so good, as if that was something which was actually going to please him.

After a while, the Doctor had to lean against the Master’s knee, finding it more and more difficult to sit up straight.

The room had quietened. It sounded as though the Master had finished, the Doctor thought, hopefully. But then he heard the Master scribbling something down again, and the Doctor rolled his eyes in frustration. He was glad the Master could not see his face, as he would not be at all pleased, and that would just make the Doctor’s life harder.

Finally, a couple of hours later, it seemed the Master had finished.

The Doctor looked up at him, hopefully, to find the Master looking down at him affectionately.

Glancing at the time on his watch, “I think you might need to get some sleep now,” the Master said, with a small smile.

The Doctor guessed it was only about six O’clock in the evening. But then again, his telling of time had not been that accurate recently.

Although, strangely enough, he did feel a little tired now at his mate’s suggestion. The Doctor definitely also had a headache coming on.

The Master stood up, offering the Doctor his hand. The Doctor took it, and was lifted onto his feet. The movement of it made him dizzy for a moment, and he had to hold onto the Master’s shoulders to ensure he didn’t fall over. The Master held him at the waist, and the Doctor looked down at his hands fuzzily.

His symptoms were odd, to say the least.

The Doctor groaned suddenly, a sharp pain in his abdomen. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw tight, like that could subtract from the pain.

“Have you poisoned me?” The Doctor asked through gritted teeth, still in pain, but managing a small, ironic laugh. “That’s how you’re finally going to kill me, is it?”

“No, dear.” The Doctor looked at him, hearing a smirk in his voice.

“Then-“ the Doctor knew the answer, but certainly did not want to admit to it or think about it. “My ectospleen’s deflated.” The Doctor realised, eyes wide, not quite believing it. They both knew what that meant. Or at least the Master knew, the Doctor wasn’t entirely sure, but had a good idea.

In a Gallifreyan pregnancy, it was said that the ectospleen in a man’s body would deflate to make room for the baby.

The Doctor watched, in horror, as the Master’s smile grew larger and wider.

“Congratulations.” The Master said, quietly, revelling in the Doctor’s fear.

“No-“ The Doctor said, subconsciously backing away from the Master. He knew it had been a possibility. In fact he knew it was a very high possibility. But he had never really... expected it to have actually happened.

The Doctor realised how heavy his breathing was in panic, as the Master moved closer to him and told him to relax.

This didn’t help much. In fact it probably spurred his worry on more. The Doctor was putting a hand out to the Master’s chest, halting him from coming any nearer. “You- how could you-“

“I need you to calm down now.” The Master repeated, seriously, and there was a dangerous look in his eyes, like he wasn’t going to be questioned or argued with. It was a command.

“Master,” the Doctor breathed, his vision blurred by the tears in his eyes, “I cant- we can’t bring another one of us into the universe.” He continued, incredulously, the prospect of it being insane. He couldn’t begin to imagine how dangerous a child of theirs could be.

“Doctor,” the Master warned, dangerously, “Your ectospleen’s deflated, meaning, you’re going to start having regeneration drains soon. Please just- come here.” He continued, attempting to get closer again, his arms outstretched like the Doctor was about to fall over or something.

The Doctor had backed into the wall now anyway, he had nowhere left to go. The Master’s hands took his, standing far closer to the Doctor than what was necessary.

The Doctor turned his head to the side, his chest rising and falling quickly, desperately trying to make more space between them.

“So beautiful.” The Master whispered, his eyes a little glassy as he stared at the Doctor, a tentative hand reaching out to stroke his knuckles against the Doctor’s cheek.

With a very small gasp, the Doctor shied away from the Master’s touch, like a wounded animal. The Master only found this more beautiful, and watched intently as the Doctor did so.

The Doctor could smell the Master’s pheromones. The scent was strong, filling up his nostrils until it was all he could think about. They were close now, and the Doctor couldn’t avoid it.

The Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regain his composure and track of logical thoughts. His mind was a bit of a blur at the moment, and he needed to decide what he was going to do next.

“Doctor. It’s okay. Whatever you’re worrying about - it doesn’t matter!” He heard the Master reassure him, firmly, “I think you’re tired... You should come with me.” He said, gripping onto the Doctor’s hand more securely.

Somehow the Doctor was back in the bedroom. He couldn’t remember the details of how he got there. The Master had just ushered him along whilst he was deep in thought. He hadn’t made a fight.

“Drink. It should help you sleep.” The Master said, pushing a glass into his hands. The Doctor drank blindly, uncaringly, as the Master helped him into bed, then took the now empty glass from his hands. It tasted a bit like ginger.

He already felt much calmer, with his head on a pillow. He was watching the Master sitting down on the side of the bed for some long moments, before he turned onto his side and buried his head into the duvet.

His eyes were just blinking shut as he felt the Master put a warm hand on his calf over the sheet, “Sweet dreams.”


	38. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things keep going downhill for the Doctor... 😔 sorry :/

When the Doctor awoke a few hours later, he realised he had been nuzzling into something warm that was making his mouth water. It took him a long, hazy moment to realise what exactly he was pressing his nose into and why the air smelled so good.

His head had definitely been on a pillow, the last time he remembered being conscious anyway. But now the Master was with him in bed, which he didn’t remember happening before either.

His head was certainly not on a pillow anymore, but resting on the Master’s midriff, whilst the Master stroked his hair.

The Doctor sat up, dazedly, looking around the room before his attention paused on the Master.

The ginger in that drink must have really knocked him out. The Master had somehow managed to shift the Doctor’s body into a different position, without him even waking up. The thought of this made the Doctor feel violated in many ways - which was rather ironic, considering the Master had done much worse things to him before.

With a sigh, the Doctor flopped down beside the Master, his back colliding against the mattress with a small thump.

They were in identical positions now, on their backs, staring up at the ceiling.

The Master must be able to sense the Doctor’s upset. He had made it quite clear to him only hours before, after all.

‘ _Oh no,_ ’ the Doctor thought, anxiously, glancing at the Master. There were definitely tears welling up in his eyes - again. He really didn’t want the Master to see, so he turned onto his side facing away from him.

He felt and heard an audible tear drop onto his pillow. Why had he been crying so much recently? He had been so emotional lately.

“Doctor?” He heard the Master say, softly.

The Doctor shut his eyes, wondering whether he should respond or not, whether there was even any point in it.

“I can sense your distress. I can _smell_ your tears, even.”

“Yeah.” The Doctor replied, in almost a whisper.

“Well, don’t sulk. Get over it.” The Master said, “It’s _annoying_ when you’re sad. It makes me... _anxious_.”

At least the Master was also suffering due to his biology. They were mates, and obviously the smell of his other mate crying was triggering his basic urges.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have knocked me up.” The Doctor replied, almost casually, like the thought caused him no anxiety at all - when it did. It most definitely did.

He heard an irritated huff from the Master, and next he was getting up.

“You’ll come ‘round, eventually.” The Master said to him, walking towards the door, “Until then, I really can’t be bothered to deal with you.”

The Doctor sat up quickly, watching the Master opening the door to leave-

“ _Wait_!” The Doctor gasped, shocked by his own reaction to the Master leaving, physically and emotionally. His hearts were beating noticeably quicker. His hands had clenched onto the duvet, sweaty palmed and locked with tension.

The Master paused, just outside the door. Then he came back in, with a smile, closing the door behind him, “Coming around _so quickly_?” He asked, “I’m impressed. You’ve been trained _well_.”

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his sitting position, biting back the urge to object to the Master’s crude appraisal.

“You’re not to complain again, do you understand? You’re being ungrateful.” The Master said, coldly, and dangerously. There was a pause, a moment when the Doctor thought he was off the hook until -

“I want you to thank me, in fact.” He said, rather suddenly and sharply, with his hands on his hips, “ _Get on your knees._ ”

The Doctor didn’t react, in shock. He stayed completely still, processing it all and working out the consequences of not getting on his knees. He came to the conclusion that disobeying would be much worse.

The Doctor slid off the bed, and onto his knees, avoiding the Master’s piercing stare.

“So, what do you have to say, Doctor?” The Master said, dully, like he was bored.

“Thank you.”

“Pardon? What did you say?” He asked loudly, with a smirk.

“ _Thank you, Master._ ” The Doctor repeated.

“And what are you thanking me for?”

“Everything?”

“You don’t seem very sure!”

“ _Everything_.” The Doctor repeated, more solemnly and seriously.

“Repeat after me. ‘ _Thank you for fucking me Master, I am very grateful and much appreciative of your spawn growing inside of me.’”_

“Thank you for... _fucking_ me, Master.” The Doctor said, quietly, his cheeks burning hot. He hated such vulgar language.

“And?”

“I am very grateful... and much _appreciative_ of your- your _spawn_. Growing inside of _me_.” The words were difficult to get out without choking on them.

“Do you have any idea how offensive it is? Me, being kind, looking after you...” the Master said, incredulously, “Then you - rejecting me _and_ our own child?”

The Doctor held his breath, determined not to make a sound as he stared up at the Master with shiny eyes.

“You’re sorry now though, _aren’t you?_ ”

“ _Yes_.” The Doctor replied, shakily, swallowing down any more signs of emotion.

“There we go.” The Master said, soothingly, moving closer so the Doctor’s head was against the Master’s thigh as he stroked him. “It’s okay.” He reassured him.

The warmth of it was comforting to the Doctor, despite his upset. The smell and feel of his alpha was overtaking him, and thoughts of rebellion and anger at the Master died away. He was just content, with his head leaning against the Master. Nothing needed to change when it felt so perfect now. He felt safe. _Protected by him._


	39. The Great War

A few weeks had passed and the Doctor had somehow managed to keep his sanity. Or maybe he hadn’t! _After all, a sign of madness was certainly the denial of it._

The Doctor kept quietly mostly. He did as he was told and he never, ever got upset in front of the Master, which was difficult, considering how low he felt most of the time.

The Doctor’s gestation did not help with his mood at all. Everyday, whenever he felt sick or tired, he was reminded of it. Of that thing - growing inside of him.

He had checked himself in the mirror a few days ago. Maybe it was imagination, maybe not: but his trouser waist seemed a little tighter than usual. He did his best to ignore it, to move on - pretend it was anything but the thing he feared.

Today was the day of the countdown, which the Doctor had even forgotten about, only remembering when the Master had whispered it into his ear before he had fallen asleep.

The countdown was irrelevant now, anyway. That plan was not going to work. The Master was going to wage war upon the universe, and there was nothing the Doctor could do about it.

Maybe, just maybe, someday - if he could just work out how to destroy the Paradox machine, and make things the way they were. But for now, that wasn’t a possibility, so the Doctor world have to deal with how things were presently.

He was anxious about today. If Martha Jones really was alive, surely he would find out today? The last day of the Universe.

“Morning sunshine!” the Master greeted him, cheerfully, entering the room rather chaotically, with a loud bang as the door hit the wall.

The Master hadn’t come to bed last night. He was clearly so excited about today or planning, that he could not sleep. Not that the Doctor minded. In many ways, it was a relief really.

The Doctor sat up, hiding a small yawn with his arm. He had been feeling more tired than usual recently, and he didn’t like the Master spotting it.

“Aww, is my Doctor sleepy?” The Master cooed, happily, like he was talking to a rather adorable and clueless puppy.

The Doctor didn’t reply. That seemed like the best and easiest solution these days - just to keep quiet.

The Doctor watched as Francine Jones followed the Master into the room, carrying a tray of breakfast.

With her back turned to the Master, she raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, irritably, which stung him a bit. He felt guilty.

Her daughter was probably dead, the Master was about to take over the universe, and here he was, laying in bed as she brought him breakfast. He didn’t ask for breakfast of course, that was all the Master, who made sure he was eating enough each day.

_‘Growing a Time Lord is hard work, Doctor.’ He had said, ‘You need to eat.’_

“Put it on the bed.” The Master snapped, and Francine carefully put the tray down beside the Doctor. She was hurrying out of the room next. But the Master paid her no interest, clearly too focused on his prize, which was sitting on the bed quietly, eyeing the food in front out him.

The Doctor was used to eating without being asked to now. The last time he had refused to eat, the Master had made sure to beat Francine to a pulp in front of him.

He picked up a piece of toast, nibbled on it, and took an exceptionally long time chewing such a minute bite of bread. He had picked the plainest item of food purposefully. He was accustomed to feeling sick a lot of mornings now, and plain things helped.

He tried to ignore the fact that the Master was currently watching him eat, obsessively. ‘ _Think happy thoughts, Doctor!’_ He repeated to himself, a mantra in his head.

The Doctor finished his toast, and looked at the rest of the food. His disgust had clearly shown on his face (and not because the food wasn’t nice) but simply because he felt so nauseas, “I can get you something else if you prefer? I just thought you liked it.”

“No- yeah. I do, actually, yeah.” The Doctor sighed, “I just feel too sick at the moment.”

The Master looked concerned for a moment, before he nodded and took the tray away, placing it on the side, then sat back down again in his armchair facing the Doctor.

“From the Black Sea to the Bering Strait, there are a hundred thousand ships, ready for war.” The Master said, almost reminiscently, leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his face, “Good, isn’t it?”

The Doctor didn’t reply again, but the Master didn’t seem to mind as long as the Doctor could hear his incessant talk.

“No news of the blessed Saint Martha Jones.” The Master continued, and the Doctor’s heart sank. “It’s almost as if she’s... _dead_? _Isn’t it?_ ” He chuckled.

The Doctor’s nails were digging into his palm. He needed to control his anxiety. It was taking him a lot to not throw something at the Master.

“That would be nice... Although, I think I might prefer the pleasure of killing her in front of you. Not sure what’s better, actually! Finding her rotting corpse washed up on the shores of Russia... or watching the life leave her eyes as I shoot her? Hm. I _wish_ we could do both. Oh, that’d be _so much_ fun!”

The Doctor kept his head down, focused on his own fiddly hands. It was better than imagining Martha’s corpse on some beach halfway across the world.

“Oh, Rassilon! I can’t tell you how much I’m forward to it all!” The Master said, beaming, getting out of his chair to climb onto the bed. “Today, the _Great War of the Universe_ begins.” He said, and he was practically crawling onto the Doctor’s lap now.

“Killing stuff _really_ turns me on.” The Master added, more breathlessly, with a smirk, before smashing his lips into his. The Master’s tongue forced its way into the Doctor’s mouth, his arms looping around his neck and into his hair. It was a frantic, forceful kiss. The Doctor hardly reciprocated, making sure to keep still and pliant whilst the Master did what he wanted to him, not feeling or wanting to kiss him back. The Master either didn’t notice or care that the Doctor wasn’t feeling the same way.

The Master pulled away slightly, admiring the Doctor’s now-swollen lips, and ruffled hair. The Master licked his own lips at the sight.

Unlike the Master, the Doctor felt more nervous than aroused, and his eyes flickered downward to rest on the bed sheets instead of him. It was easier that way.

“Sorry I couldn’t come to bed last night.” The Master said, sadly, as though the action had caused the Doctor great misery, “I’ll make it up to you soon though. We’ll have so much time together.” He was pushing the Doctor’s chest down now, so he was on his back, whilst the Master was above, straddling him. The Master roughly pushed the duvet onto the floor, away from them and out of the way. Next thing he knew, the Master was wetly mouthing at the Doctor’s half-hard member through his boxer shorts.

The Doctor gasped, his back arching, head tilting back, and hips rising to meet the Master’s mouth, automatically, without thought. The Master was pleased with this, and laughed softly, pressing a hand down on his pelvis to keep him still.

The Doctor knew that logically, he didn’t want this. Whenever this kind of thing happened, he felt so much worse afterwards. It was like they couldn’t stop though. It was maddening. Whenever the Doctor attempted to keep still and unaroused, it turned out to be completely fruitless. Just one word or touch from the Master, and he was rocking his hips with him in sync, whining and keening and begging for release.

The Doctor desperately tried to switch his brain off, un-attach it from his body at least, but he couldn’t.

“I don’t-“ the Doctor panted, “I don’t think I want this.”

“Then why are you like this?” He asked, silkily yet innocently, pulling the Doctor’s boxers down and sucking his now-hard sex from base to tip. The Doctor unsurprisingly moaned, despite his best efforts to keep quiet, then felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I don’t know.” The Doctor replied, truthfully.

“Hm. Doesn’t seem like a good reason to stop then.” The Master hummed, before doing something with his mouth that made the Doctor shake and whimper in pleasure.

The Master lay beside the Doctor afterwards, sucking and kissing into his neck, sure to leave marks there, visible for everyone to see for days.

The Doctor found it oddly soothing. The idea of looking in the mirror later, seeing the Master’s claim on him, and others seeing it even, was sickly satisfying. The Doctor smiled at that thought. The Master saw, and with a chuckle, bit into the Doctor again, harder this time. It only made the Doctor sigh, happily, as he somehow enjoyed the pain.

He knew that the way he felt wasn’t healthy. He knew that it was wrong, and probably a sign of his sickness - the sickness that was the Master.

But he didn’t think he could help it anymore.


	40. The Countdown

It was midday now, and thanks to the Master’s constant excited reminders, the Doctor knew that the countdown was about to begin.

The Doctor was also chained to a large, ornate, throne-like chair, in the conference room. But that was pretty normal on the Valiant. The Master seemed to want him on display, like a prized-jewel, but very clearly imprisoned and under his control.

Francine, Clive and Tish Jones were standing across the room from the Doctor, looking nervous. They had been summoned here for a reason and the guess of why that might be made the Doctor’s stomach churn. He only hoped it wasn’t something to do with Martha. He would rather hear no news at all, then have the confirmation that she was actually gone - dead.

The Doctor mainly avoided eye-contact with the Jones’ family. He had failed them. The plan for the countdown was not going to work. Martha Jones could definitely be dead.

The Doctor hadn’t expected the Master to come up behind him, and he jumped slightly. The Master chuckled lightly, sitting himself down on the arm of the Doctor’s chair, and leaning in to a place a soft, possessive kiss on the Doctor’s temple. The Doctor shut his eyes on contact, briefly forgetting how to breath.

The Master was walking away now, and the Doctor had to shuffle in his seat, feeling a buzz from the Master’s touch.

He glanced at Francine, who like the rest of her family, was busy watching the Master in fear.

The large double-doors opened suddenly, and Lucy came stumbling in, accompanied by a few soldiers.

“Ah, Lucy dear! Come in!”

She didn’t look happy. She must have been forced to come here. Her makeup was ruined where she had obviously been crying, and the red dress she wore had a tear in it. What had the Master done to her so recently?

He didn’t have long to worry about Lucy however, when the doors were opening again, and Captain Jack was being walked in, chained by his wrists and ankles, pushed along by several armed guards.

The Doctor gasped quietly, sitting up attentively as he watched Jack be hauled into the room. Their eyes met, and the Doctor quickly looked away.

“Captain Jack Harkness. How nice of you to join us!” The Master called, like a circus show-runner.

The last time the Doctor had been permitted to see Jack, he had been carried away, leaving Jack screaming as he suffered his torture alone.

So many things had happened since then, and he wasn’t sure if he would want to tell Jack about them, even if he could. The thought of telling Jack that Martha was probably dead, and he was now carrying the Master’s child, made the Doctor’s skin crawl.

The Doctor couldn’t look at Jack at all. He worried that Jack would somehow be able to read his eyes, discover everything. Which he knew was impossible, of course. But it still worried him irrationally for some reason - made him nervous, paranoid...

“Start the countdown.” He heard the Master say, coldly.

The clock was ticking. In two minutes, the war on the Universe began.

“I never could resist a ticking clock!” The Master said, enthusiastically, placing his hands on the Doctor’s shoulders and leaning in rather intimately to whisper the words into his ear. The Doctor had to repress a small shiver, especially in front of an audience.

“Don’t _touch_ him!” Jack shouted, outraged.

“But I can do whatever I like with him.” The Master replied, in an addled sort of way. “Can’t I, Doctor?”

The Doctor bit his lip anxiously, still unable to look at Jack, settling his gaze on the ground instead.

“ _Can’t I, Doctor_?” The Master repeated, more dangerously, gripping more tightly at the Doctor’s hair, now aiming his laser screwdriver at the Jones’ family.

“You _bastard_!” Jack shouted, incandescent, again.

“Yes.” The Doctor replied, quickly.

“Good boy.” The Master uttered into his ear, so only the two of them could hear. An unwanted something coiled tighter in his belly at this. His body had reacted to the Master’s words... in pleasure? The Doctor shut his eyes and took a deep breath in, hoping nobody had noticed anything strange.

The Master laughed, breathily quiet, right near him, like he knew.

“One minute to go!” The Master announced, his arms outstretched, turning his attention to their small audience. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

Jack gave an angry tug at the chains restricting him, glaring at the Master. “I swear, whatever you’ve done to the Doctor... you’ll be sorry.” Jack hissed, his teeth bared.

_Done... to him?_

“Will I?” The Master asked, with a low chuckle, amused.

_What did he mean? What had the Master done to him?_

“I don’t think so.” The Master replied, with a dark smirk, voice low and sinful, and... pleased.

“ _Master_ -“

“Hush, dear,” The Master snapped. “Thirty seconds!” He added, brightly.

_What was the Doctor doing? He hadn’t even tried to stop the Master’s countdown!_

“You can’t-“

“ _Quiet, now._ ”

“Please, just wait. Just stop the countdown-“

“ _Doctor_.” The Master growled, warningly...

“You don’t need to do this-“

The Master hit him hard, across the face. IT stung a lot, and that was barely due to the physical pain of it.

Stunned, the Doctor stared at the Master. His breathing was laboured and heavy, his teeth were bared. He looked threatened, maybe even fearful for a second. But no, the Doctor must have imagined that. Now, the Master looked simply livid.

Maybe it was the Doctor’s omega hormones, but the physical hurt the Master had inflicted on him was making his eyes water. He looked away from him, down at the floor, just trying to calm himself down.

_What had gotten into him? Since when did he find a slap across the face so... distressing?_

The Doctor thought of their baby. The Master was supposed to care for him. For _them_.

The Master clearly wanted the child a lot, so he wouldn’t seriously, physically damage the Doctor, but he was happy to hurt him emotionally, with a strike across the face. The Master didn’t care about the hurt he caused his mate, as long as the Doctor was obedient and pleased him. Only him.

“Ten seconds.”

The Doctor waited for the inevitable.

“Five... four... three... two... _one_...”

The Doctor hardly heard the ear-splitting explosion of rockets igniting, then the Master’s cackles of delight. Jack was exclaiming something again, furiously, and there was a small cry from the Jones’ family.

The Doctor looked up, to find the source of the cry, only his vision was blurry, and it hurt his hazy head to try and look for too long.

Not long later, Jack was being pulled out of the room by heavily armed guards, and the Jones’ family followed.

The Doctor felt the Master releasing the chains which were holding him to the chair. He looked down at his arms, fuzzily seeing the Master’s hands remove the constraints keeping his arms tied to the armrests. The Master might have said something too. The Doctor stood up immediately, unthinkingly - then felt an uncomfortable hot burn grow and spread within him, until it was too much.

The Doctor swayed dangerously, and the Master caught him safely in his arms just as he fell unconscious.

“What was _that_?” Lucy gasped, staring at the two of them. She had just seen the Doctor glow bright gold - no wonder she was shocked.

“Regeneration drain.” The Master said, fondly, tucking a piece of hair behind the Doctor’s ear, gazing at his unconscious form. The Master didn’t bother explaining any further. Instead, he clicked irritably at a couple of guards to get their attention:

“Take him to my bedroom. Lay him down. Make him comfortable.”

“Yes, sir,” one nodded, taking the body from him and putting the Doctor over his shoulders in a Fireman’s carry.

“And if you drop him, I will personally skin you alive.”

The soldier nodded again, nervously, before getting on with the job in hand.

The Doctor awoke a few minutes later, realising he was being carried but not caring why. He must have drifted back to sleep, as what felt like only a second later, he was being carefully manoeuvred onto a soft surface - a bed.

“ _Master..._?” The Doctor murmured, tiredly, humming as the duvet was put over him. His inner omega was positively purring at the attention.

The person helping him seemed to pause at the Master’s name, and the Doctor managed to look up at the person, “Oh...” That wasn’t the Master, “Where is he?”

“He asked me to bring you here.” The man replied, shortly.

“He’s not here?”

The man shook his head. He was backing out of the room next.

“What’s your name?” The Doctor asked, quickly.

He hesitated. “George.” He replied, quietly. “My name was George.”

“Was?”

George shrugged, “Surely nobody’s the same person they used to be.”

He was definitely exiting now, turning his back on the Doctor. Maybe the Doctor could help him?

“ _Wait_ -“

“- _You know,_ ” George said, ignoring the Doctor, stopping at the open door to say the last words, “I was told there was hope. That you had a plan. That was the rumour anyway.” He paused, and chuckled icily.

The Doctor avoided his gaze, feeling guilty and under scrutiny.

“But you’re just his _lap-dog_ now, _aren’t you?_ He proper loves you, for an object at least.” He laughed again, in a false and unnatural sort of way, that made the Doctor’s insides turn cold.

“I had a daughter! Not anymore though, so I don’t care: _why don’t you tell your Master what I’ve said?_ I bet he’d be _angry._ A mere mortal like me mocking his favourite pet? He’d kill anyone who said a bad word against you.”

“You’re a good, brave man, George.” The Doctor said, quietly, meaning it. _He wished he could say the same about himself._


	41. Only Human

The past week’s activities had included a lot of kissing and such.

In the bed, on the walls... on the office table and in the shower. Basically everywhere - every breathing moment. It was intoxicating.

It wasn’t meaningless though. It wasn’t a boring human activity, simply for pleasure. There was a deep, emotional connection between the two of them, and during intercourse, their minds and bodies could connect fully. It was heavenly. Like two very different pieces of a puzzle, they somehow fitted together perfectly, and it was so _satisfying_.

Since the countdown, the Master had been completely enamoured by the Doctor - or at least, more so than he usually was.

The Master had also implemented his twisted idea for the Doctor having some kind of ‘pet’. Since the countdown, Lucy had been sort of... assigned to him, (at least when the Master wasn’t around).

Presently, with Lucy ordered away and their minds now connected comfortingly, the Master kissed the Doctor, lazily, creating fresh marks on his neck and shoulders.

“The nearest Galaxies have... been wiped out, to say the least...” The Master murmured, happily, in between kisses, “Or enslaved.” He added, his teeth scraping almost painfully against the Doctor’s skin.

Unbidden, the Doctor moaned at this, squirming slightly as he felt hot sparks of pleasure run through his body, like bolts of delicious electricity.

“You know, I think me taking over the Universe is starting to turn you on,” The Master said, his lips curved into a smirk over the Doctor’s flesh. “You should come with me sometime, help me destroy things... You might like it...”

The Doctor hummed, half-heartedly, neither agreeing or disagreeing - not really wanting to own up to either of them.

The Master bit into his shoulder, and the Doctor involuntarily gasped and twitched from the pain and suddenness of it.

“ _Mmm_... Lovely Doctor,” the Master mumbled, almost incoherently, muffled by his consistent lapping of the blood now trickling down the Doctor’s skin.

The pheromones in the Master’s saliva had a soothing effect when they got into the Doctor’s bloodstream, like right now. The Doctor’s hindbrain was telling him that he was safe... that he had done well... that he had pleased alpha.

The Doctor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, practically giddy from all of the mind-numbing pleasure.

It wasn’t that he felt happy, though. The pleasure was short-term, and once it wore off, the Doctor was reminded of the emptiness and hopelessness inside him.

It felt good, though, to temporarily ease the pain. So, greedily, he took any chance he got for simple moments alone with the Master. It was his addiction now, he realised. He wasn’t sure if he could give it up.

A few days had passed, or maybe even a week - he wasn’t sure. Time had become a confusing blur now.

He was laying besides Lucy now - a warm, soothing presence, also tangled in the sheets of the Master’s bed.

The Doctor had spent most of the night just talking to Lucy. It was a frequent occurrence that in the evenings she would get the most upset, unable to sleep due to her panic attacks.

The Doctor could help her, in the short term, console her. But he knew, in the long term, Lucy was un-fixable. The Master had corrupted her, broken her. She was only human, after all.

Reluctantly, the Doctor had to admit that having Lucy around seemed to improve his mental state a lot. But that seemed so selfish - that he was actually gaining some strange pleasure from caring for someone in so much pain.

_‘You could look after Lucy.’ The Master had suggested, ‘I thought you liked babysitting your little humans? Cuddling them, petting them; making them all better again with your special Doctor powers? Hm?’_

The Master was right, the Doctor thought. He needed a human... just to function properly now. He was most definitely sick - he could only hope he wasn’t beyond saving, like Lucy unfortunately was.

With the two of them falling asleep embracing, limbs tangled and small caresses, they never ‘made love’ to each other. They simply held each other, emblematically clinging onto that feeling of security... of love, (something they were both missing, in different ways).

The bedroom door opened, with a small creak.

Lucy’s arms were wrapped around him, in fact their lower limbs were completely entwined under the duvet. Moving would probably wake her up, so the Doctor kept still.

The Doctor watched as the Master entered, wearing navy blue, silk pyjamas. With a smirk on the his lips and eyes only for the Doctor, he carefully sat down on the side of the bed to join them.

The Doctor’s mouth twitched hesitantly at the sight of the Master smiling, finding it somehow infectious, before finally giving in and allowing himself to smile, a small smile back.

“You like her, don’t you?” The Master asked, quietly, his smile growing, eyes dark as they flicked over to Lucy’s sleeping form.

“Well, yes, of course. She’s human. How could I possibly dislike her?” The Doctor replied. There was an awkward pause.

“I only just got her to sleep...” The Doctor continued, absently, taking a moment to gaze at her.

“She has difficulty sleeping.” He added, stiffly, in explanation, glancing at the Master.

“ _Mhm_...” The Master hummed, hardly listening, eyes glittering and moving quickly across the Doctor’s face, taking in every detail.

The Master didn’t seem interested in whatever inflicted Lucy. _He appeared to only be interested in watching the Doctor talk._

“You know, I’m going to have to give you another check-up today. Check that everything’s still going smoothly.”

The Doctor nodded. Then, surprisingly tenderly, took the Master’s hand in his own, with a deep, shuddery breath. He held it to his chest.

His eyes met the Master’s with a pleasant sigh, finding his touch and attention soothing, like a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

The Doctor definitely felt more in-touch with the baby recently. He thought about it a lot - worried about it even, and when the Master was around it suddenly felt like nothing could go wrong.

Hesitantly, the Doctor moved the Master’s hand to rest on his abdomen. His chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed deeply to hide his anxiety, studying the Master’s reaction carefully. He tentatively hoped the Master would be pleased with him.

He saw the Master shut his eyes. He focused on the child, his mind reaching out to any forming consciousness.

The Doctor watched the Master breathe in, shakily, with something akin to reverence.

“Can you _feel it?_ ” The Doctor whispered.

“Nearly...” He replied, eyes still shut and lips parted as he breathed in and out.

The Master opened his eyes, and his hand trailed softly down the rest of the Doctor’s shape as his gaze did so also. The Doctor’s body was the equivalent of a holy temple to him at the moment, (if either of them cared for religion at all).

The Doctor was glad when the Master bent over to place a kiss on his lips. He had wanted to kiss him ever since he had arrived, but couldn’t sit up with the worry of waking Lucy.

The Master was about to pull away after the soft kiss, but the Doctor hastily grabbed his shoulder to keep him near, and fervently kissed the Master some more.

The Master was smiling gently as they finally separated, his eyes unabashedly still focused on the Doctor’s now slightly-swollen lips.

He took the Doctor’s chin in his hand. Without any resistance from the Doctor, he used his grip to tilt and adjust the position of his head, so he could look down and admire him properly.

“Very nice.” The Master murmured appreciatively, tracing the Doctor’s cheek and jawline with the pad of his thumb.

“Thank you, Master.” The Doctor replied, softly, eyes wide, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

He glanced to Lucy, who was thankfully still asleep, her breathing and heartbeat making the Doctor certain of that. She must have been very tired.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to get some sleep now? You haven’t yet?”

The Doctor nodded, “Yes, if that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay.” The Master cooed, lovingly kissing the Doctor’s temple, before standing up.

“You shouldn’t prioritise Lucy.” The Master added, significantly more coldly, “If it turns out you’re incapable of making the most basic, correct decisions for yourself, like sleeping and eating - then I’ll have to take control of that as well, won’t I? And that won’t be fun.”

Well, the mood had certainly changed quickly, the Doctor thought. But it wasn’t surprising. He was used to it with the Master. He was getting anxious about the Doctor not sleeping enough, and concern always meant a lot of anger and unpredictability. It was how he managed.

“I’m sorry.” The Doctor said, quietly, looking down at the sheets.

“I gave Lucy to you as a gift. I can just as easily take her away if I decide she’s the cause of any negative impact on your physical health. From now on, Lucy comes second. Do you understand?”

“Yes... Master.”

“Good.” The Master said, briskly, about to exit the room now, “Sleep well.” He added, blowing the Doctor a kiss before he shut the door behind him.


	42. Sleep Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooo some love begins to blossom between Lucy and the Doctor. (There were signs of it before actually)
> 
> But anyway I think it will be more of a friendship-love. Maybe romantic, but not sexual. Lucy may be looking for something sexual, but the Doctor wouldn’t use her like that. Although he obviously does find her attractive.
> 
> Lucy also sees the Doctor as a way into the Master’s affections. So she is using him in that way, but can you blame her? They are in hell. 
> 
> Any kissing or touching is just for the comfort of it. They sort of lean on each other for support - especially Lucy. If that makes any sense. And as sad as this is, the Doctor sort-of pities Lucy. Its not a particularly healthy relationship - just coping mechanisms. Its complicated between them, to say the least.

The Doctor awoke to Lucy smiling softly at him. They were both on their sides, facing each other, and she was close enough that the Doctor could count every single one of her eyelashes if he wanted to.

“Thank you for helping me sleep.” She said, quietly.

He gave a small smile in return, “Anytime.”

“I haven’t slept that well in ages.” She said, her hand reaching out to caress his cheek. It was... _unexpected. But not unwelcome._

“Glad I could help.” The Doctor replied, with another awkward smile.

The Doctor’s eyes followed the simple movement of her hand sliding down his neck, all the way to rest on his upper-chest. She bit her bottom lip slightly, eyes thoughtful and focused on her own hand resting on his chest, like she was contemplating something.

Her lips met his next - she was kissing him. The Doctor didn’t pull away. He was a little taken aback, but didn’t want to upset her all the same.

He found himself warming into the experience soon... _maybe_ even kissing her back. _His hand may have even moved to the back of her neck, his fingers threading into her silky hair..._

He heard Lucy sigh, one of her bare legs slipping on top of his clothed one.

They separated at about the same time. Lucy was now nuzzling into his chest, and the Doctor’s chin was lightly rested on top of her head.

“Was Harry here?” She asked, her voice muffled by the Doctor’s chest. “I wasn’t sure if I’d dreamt it or not. Must have been half-asleep.”

“Yes. Only for a bit, though.”

“What did he want?”

“Oh, uh...” _What did he want? The visit had been a little random._ It had started off as affectionate and turned into a bit of scolding, “Honestly, I don’t know. It was nothing, really. He was just checking up on us I think.”

She hummed in understanding. Then, hesitantly, she said, “Do you think... you could maybe... help me in getting him to _forgive_ _me_?”

The Doctor sighed inwardly, not wanting to sigh aloud due to the rudeness of it.

 _Of course,_ he thought, sadly. All of this was still fuelled by Lucy’s damaged obsession in pleasing the Master - being loved by him, even.

“I could try.” The Doctor said, kindly.

She looked up at him and smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest in line with her lips, uttering a small thank you.

In all honesty, the Doctor didn’t even know what the Master needed to forgive Lucy for. She hadn’t done anything. She was just human, he supposed, and the Master had broken her and become bored of her. There was nothing for the Master to forgive. He would never love her like she craved. It was pointless to even try.

“You could tell him I’ve been _helping_ you, or something like that,” She suggested, in a way clearly intended to sound casual, but came off more as desperate, “He’d like that.” She added, quickly.

“Sure.” The Doctor replied, heavily, sounding more exhausted than he had meant to. Luckily, Lucy didn’t notice, or at least decided not to comment on it.

They lay there for a while longer, occasionally making small conversation, and eventually the Doctor must have slipped back into sleep.

He was awoken by the soft back of someone’s knuckles, stroking his cheek. He kept his eyes shut for a bit. He knew whose hand it was, and the contact brought him an oddly instinctual, primal even, sense of comfort.

He opened his eyes, slowly. It was the Master’s hand of course, and he was smiling down at him. Lucy was no longer embracing the Doctor, but had sat up, looking fearful at the Master’s presence.

_‘It’s okay.’ The Doctor mouthed to her._

The Master chuckled at this, smoothly, taking the Doctor’s hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it.

Spitefully, the Master’s eyes darted to Lucy for the first time since he had entered the room, pleased to see a certain amount of jealousy and envy on her face.

“Is Lucy keeping my lovely Doctor warm, hm?” The Master asked the Doctor, purring with sickly sweet affection.

“Yes, Master.” The Doctor replied, remembering Lucy’s request to attempt in getting her into the Master’s good-books.

“Really?” The Master said, slowly and sarcastically, sounding utterly surprised and bewildered, “Maybe you aren’t completely useless after all.” He said to Lucy, nastily, hanging unnecessarily on the word ‘ _completely_.’ He clearly still believed she was mostly useless, and wanted to continue hurting her regardless. “It’s rather nice that human bodies run hotter than Time Lord’s, isn’t it?”

The Doctor shrugged, not wanting to ignore him as that would displease him, but not wanting to agree with the way he was suggesting a human was nothing more than a hot water bottle - an object.

The Doctor’s eyes flickered to Lucy’s apologetically. Lucy, looking saddened and self-conscious, looked down to stare at her own fingers, which were fiddling nervously with the duvet.

“Well, yes. Lucy’s been _really_ kind. She’s been offering to help out a lot in fact.”

“Has she?” The Master drawled, not even bothering to sound interested.

“ _Yes_.”

Completely ignoring the Doctor, “Now, check-ups today! But first of all, something to eat, yes?” He said.


	43. Two Masters

The various check-ups that day were not bad at all. In fact they were mainly just the Master fussing over him.

The Doctor knew it was wrong, but, to his shame... he sort of liked it. Something deeply primal within him liked the Master’s attention. It felt good, in a satisfying way that made his toes curl.

It didn’t used to be like that. Only recently, since the Doctor had been with child. So he supposed it must have something to do with hormones.

Natural births were rare, and hardly heard of on Gallifrey, (at least amongst the upper class Time Lords).

Of course, ordinary Shobogans had natural births, unlike their regenerating ancestors. Shobogans didn’t have Looms. They could probably tell the Doctor a lot more about this. But unfortunately, they were very much dead, as with all the Time Lords of Gallifrey.

So the Doctor was left in the dark a little bit - unsure of what was coming next. The Master seemed to know though. He has clearly planned this and researched. He knew why the Doctor was passing out, even what it was called. ‘Regeneration drains,’ he had called them. The baby would siphon energy from the parent to grow into a fully-abled, regenerating Time Lord, apparently.

He had found himself feeling tired more too. According to the Master, the baby was constantly draining energy, just to stay alive. It wasn’t a great survival technique, but Shobogans hadn’t evolved for carrying regeneration energy. That was why Time Lords used Looms.

He had slept again during one of the check-ups. The Master had held his hand. It had been nice.

He had also become used to the presence of others apart from the Master. He didn’t feel so worried about the Master killing them anymore. Maybe he was just used to death now.

The woman who had done his first check-up had disappeared. The Doctor hadn’t seen her again - and she hadn’t even done anything wrong.

He had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t stop or prevent the Master from killing, so he didn’t even try anymore. Death was a normal process on the Valiant, and it sickened the Doctor to realise that... he didn’t even care anymore. Whether someone lived or died seemed irrelevant now.

This made him ponder on Jack’s last words, on the day of the countdown:

_‘I swear, whatever you’ve done to the Doctor - you’ll be sorry.’ Jack had said._

He supposed the Master had done something to him. He had changed. He wasn’t the same person he had been a year ago. For better or for worse.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor was snapped out of his day-dream by the Master’s voice. It was the end of the day. All of the check-ups had been completed and they were walking down a corridor.

“Can we-“ The Doctor paused, coming to a halt. He looked at the Master for a second, before he was gently manoeuvring them both so he had the Master against the wall. He took in another shaky breath, “I need you to-“

He was finding the Master’s mere presence distracting. Everything from his looks, to his scent, to the soft hum of his mind next to his. He leaned in closer, wanting more - just wanting to be even closer. He had meant to say something. That had been his goal, hadn’t it?

But he couldn’t remember what he had wanted to say now. And instead of talking; magnetically, unthinkingly, his lips had found another purpose, (against the Master’s neck!)

“Doctor,” He vaguely heard the Master chuckle, the vibrations of his voice travelling chest-to-chest, where they were touching, “Weren’t you going to say something?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the Doctor mumbled quickly, continuing his exploration of the Master’s neck.

He groaned, half-heartedly attempting to push the Doctor off, before giving in with a small sigh.

“For someone who likes to be known as the Doctor: you’re very good at getting what you want.”

The Doctor had real trouble hiding his smirk now, and he felt relaxed enough to let go, “Maybe I should be the Master?” He grinned up at him.

“Mhm...” The Master hummed, his eyes fluttering shut as the Doctor sucked on particularly sensitive spot, “Maybe we could both be Masters.”

The Doctor inhaled sharply in shock, pausing at the Master’s words, his mouth only inches away from the Master’s skin.

“Ugh, why did you stop?” The Master complained, like a perpetual child, “Keep going.” He ordered, roughly, grabbing the Doctor’s hair and pulling.

“Ouch! What the hell-“ The Doctor hissed, angrily, forcing the Master off him,

“Your fault for stopping.”

“I couldn’t. I- I didn’t like what you said.” The Doctor muttered, brow furrowed, “Or what I said, actually.” He added, guiltily.

‘Maybe I should be the Master?’ The Doctor’s own speech rang in his mind, with the image of himself smiling up at the Master...

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” The Doctor whispered, horrified, staring at the Master.

“Oh, relax! You’re just being over-dramatic, as usual.” The Master snapped, bitterly. “Probably your hormones...” He grumbled, “Do you want me to bite you?” He added, casually, as an after thought, already moving closer to do so, like it was decided, “That ought to calm you down.”

“No. I’m fine-“ The Doctor paused in shock, realising that the Master was ignoring him - still preparing to bite him. It seemed to have been a rhetorical question, one that did not require an answer from the Doctor.

The Master had taken ahold of the Doctor’s shoulders, grounding him to the spot to stop him from wriggling as his mouth moved closer, “No. No, Master. I said stop. No-“ The Doctor gasped, as the Master’s teeth pierced into him, enough to draw blood. He twitched frustratedly, trying to get the Master off him, but like a drug, (it was a drug of sorts, he supposed) he felt his entire body relax against his will, including his brain.

“Shhh. There we go.” The Master uttered, soothingly, “You can relax now - that’s better, isn’t it?”

The Doctor didn’t have the energy to reply. He simply allowed his head to loll onto the Master’s shoulder and shut his eyes as he breathed deeply.

“I didn’t want you to do that. Won’t you just listen to me for once?” The Doctor said, furiously, through clenched teeth, “It doesn’t solve any problems - it only... puts them... off...” He was angry still, but he could feel himself drifting off into the very near and tempting calmness.

“But you shouldn’t be worrying about your own newness, dear!” The Master moaned, “I couldn’t possibly watch you struggle when I could fix it that easily. That would be evil!”

“I thought you were evil,” the Doctor murmured, with a small chuckle,

“Well, yes, but-“

“Wait, what did you mean? My newness?” The Doctor realised, slowly and sleepily. “How- What new-“

“Shhh. Doesn’t matter.” The Master hushed him, and it seemed to work. The Doctor didn’t feel the need to ask any more questions. His number one priority was now to only simply snuggle closer, into the Master’s irresistible warmth.


	44. Till Death Do Us Part?

“This feels nice.” The Doctor said, softly, continuing to rest his head on the Master’s shoulder.

The small wound on his neck where the Master had bitten him ached dully now. But he didn’t mind much. It was weirdly comforting, even - the constant aching reminder of it being there.

“We’re going to be moving soon.”

“What?” The Doctor asked, thickly.

“Moving.” He repeated, “We have no need for the Valiant anymore. Earth is mine. This planet is getting boring. Our children and us will be spreading out: across the universe, to every single star...”

“Our children?” _Plural?_

“The Toclafane are mine.” The Master answered, simply.

The Doctor felt an odd, unexpected pang of... jealousy. _And_ annoyance. The Toclafane? _Seriously_? A made-up name for the last, twisted humans: insane and bloodthirsty - everything humanity had fought against. The Master didn’t love the Toclafane! He probably despised them as much as the Doctor did.

“But of course, _this one_ , is more important.” The Master said, putting a gentle hand on the Doctor’s abdomen, seemingly sensing his upset and knowing how to comfort him.

“Good.” The Doctor said, not meaning for the word to come out as a whisper - not meaning for it to sound so desperate!

The Master’s hands slid onto the Doctor’s waist as they kissed. It was slow, yet meaningful and passionate. Not as rushed and mad as usual. It felt good.

The Master’s hands moved to lean on the wall behind the Doctor, making a safe cage around him with his own body, as he continued kissing the Doctor.

They weren’t close enough for satisfaction - and the Master greedily moved in closer, until they were sandwiched together, chest-to-chest. Perfect.

The Doctor was panting when they separated, just enough so they could breathe.

The Doctor was clearly a little flustered. It had escalated quickly, after all. His cheeks were slightly pink, his hair mussed and lips thoroughly-used. Debauchery, in its finest.

“Gods, you’re wonderful.” The Master sighed, unable to stop himself from kissing the Doctor again, “You like that?” He grinned, hearing the Doctor moan softly.

The Doctor nodded a little too eagerly, “Oh, you do, do you?” and the Master kissed him, again, hungrily, teeth and tongue clashing against his. “You smell so good.” The Master uttered, reverently, before his lips continued the descent down the Doctor’s neck.

“Probably just the- _hormones_.” The Doctor laughed, breathlessly, his head rolling back and hitting the wall with a soft thud. He was having difficulty thinking straight now, “ _Pheromones_ , I mean.” He managed to correct himself, “Hormones work inside-“

The Master grinned, shutting him up with a kiss on the mouth, “Don’t get all clever with me.” The Master said, playfully. “ _Bedroom. Now._ ” He ordered.

They only just made it to the bedroom. The Master kicked the door shut behind them and slammed the Doctor against it, pinning him there just to feel him up.

The Master’s hands moved their way down him, frantically, and all the Doctor seemed capable of doing in that moment to just standing there and let it happen, whining desperately for more.

“Tell me that you want this.” The Master growled, suddenly squeezing the Doctor’s shoulders, painfully. “Tell me that you want me as much as I want you.”

“I do.” The Doctor breathed.

“‘Till death do us part?” The Master giggled back.

“ _Yes_ ,” the Doctor replied, meaning it ardently.

The Master beamed at him, nearly ripping the Doctor’s shirt in an attempt to get it off him.

“I believe the married couple consummate it now.” The Master smirked, as the Doctor lifted his arms in aid of the Master removing the barrier of clothing in their way.

They were falling onto the bed next. The Master straddled his laying-form at the pelvis, peppering hot, feverish kisses down his body.

He paused at his belly, suddenly distracted. The Master’s eyes seemed to glitter as he stared, his hand stopping to rest very gently down on it.

The Doctor sighed at this, his back arching slightly.

“You’ve gotten bigger.” The Master whispered, seemingly awestruck, his fingers now trailing across the Doctor’s abdomen.

“Yeah.” The Doctor replied, looking down at it, panting quietly.

There was only a little swell - not noticeable under clothing anyway, and even without clothing, it only stuck out a centimetre or so more than usual.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be swelling up as much as a female’s.” The Master said, idly, fingers still touching, “Not in this type of pregnancy. Your ectospleen deflated after all, to make space. I did some research.”

“How? I mean,” he laughed, “How often does this sort happen on Gallifrey?”

“Not often, apparently,” he replied, “but the only cases were Shobogans out in the drylands, and of course the Census didn’t include them very much, being ‘nobodies’. There must have been a lot more than what’s actually on record.”

“I’m probably the first Time Lord, though.”

“Yes, I would expect so,” the Master chuckled back, pressing another kiss onto the Doctor’s bare skin, “You are definitely the first Gallifreyan aristocrat to get fucked up like this.”

The Doctor winced at his vulgar choice of words, feeling uncomfortable with the way the Master had described the situation.

He made it sound like the Doctor was his ‘sexed-up bitch’, the Doctor thought, vaguely, surprised by his own derogatory thinking.

“I guess most Time Lords would see themselves above this sort of thing,” the Doctor replied, feeling acutely ashamed about it now.

“Pompous idiots.” The Master mumbled, viciously, kissing the Doctor some more, “Still, it worked out in the end, didn’t it? Guess who’s still alive and who isn’t!” The Master grinned at him.

Thinking about all the Time Lords who were dead made the Doctor’s hearts sink - those Time Lords he had killed. Thinking about it didn’t bring him joy like it did the Master. It only made him feel more ashamed.

“Don’t be sad.” The Master said, firmly, pausing his kissing to caress his cheek with his soft fingers. They were face-to-face now. The Master was staring so deeply into the Doctor’s eyes - it was like he could see into his soul, even from the outside. “We’re cooking up new Time Lords now, hm?” He cooed, his hand moving to pat the Doctor’s midriff, “We needed a fresh start.” He kissed him, his hand now massaging comforting circles into the Doctor’s skin. “You should be happy.” He whispered, sadly, smiling down at him. “Let’s do something to amend that, yes?”


	45. Not a Sound

Lucy heard every single sound the Doctor and the Master made together. She had heard them stumbling into the room, slamming the door shut behind them and making ‘ _love_ ’ in the bed.

She had heard them talking for a bit. Something about the Time Lords. She hadn’t been able to hear it properly. It was then very obvious what they had been up to next.

She heard one of them moaning, whilst the other had repeated something over and over, clearly quite deliriously - something that sounded like encouragement. They both sounded mad, she couldn’t even tell which voice was which. It scared her.

She had been, _and still was_ , hiding in the ensuite. She hadn’t expected the Master to be joining them tonight, and already locked in the bathroom, she was too afraid to exit in fear she might interrupt them - make the Master angry.

It had been silence for many hours now. Presumably, they were sleeping. Although she knew the Master didn’t need to sleep that much, so it was perfectly possible he was wide awake, and the thought of opening the bathroom door to a conscious, furious Master terrified her.

She was knelt on the cold stone floor, keeping unnecessarily still, paranoid she would be heard. Oh, how she wished the bathroom had a backdoor which didn’t lead to the bedroom that was currently occupied...

She felt so _exhausted_. She had tried to fall asleep on the floor, unsuccessfully. She was just too anxious to sleep. She would need to be far away from the Master to be able to sleep.

It was torture. On one hand, she felt like she was going to fall unconscious, and on the other, she was absolutely incapable of sleeping.

She waited several more hours.

By now, she must have been in the small ensuite for just over seven hours, she thought, sitting up.

Feeling braver, she decided that she would open the door. _The Master must be asleep, right? Why else would he be lying there for seven hours?_ She just had to be quiet and get past -

The Master was wide awake, his head resting on the headboard, dark, unforgiving eyes on Lucy. Lucy found herself frozen to the spot, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She was terrified.

With a small gasp of pain, Lucy’s knees buckled and hit the floor with a nasty crash, as the Master’s words shot through her head, _‘Not a sound. If you wake him, I assure you, I will make you wish you were dead.’_

Telepathy didn’t come naturally to humans. The Master’s words had to be forced into Lucy’s head, and that process was _extremely_ painful. Clearly the Master didn’t care. In fact it probably delighted him.

Unable to help herself, Lucy whimpered very quietly. She wanted to apologise profusely but her lack of telepathy meant she had no idea how to send a message back. She couldn’t say sorry aloud because the Master had told her to be quiet.

 _‘I can read your mind, you know - you worthless ape. Get out.’_ He snapped, and Lucy flinched again with the pain of it. Lucy got up quickly, hurrying out of the room so quietly she even held her breath. _‘This won’t go without punishment.’_ She heard it just as she was exiting. She sprinted down the corridor, her bare footsteps echoing slightly, tears in her eyes.

Far away, eventually running out of breath, she slowed down to a walking-pace, her sobs breaking free uncontrollably and filling the empty space.

“ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ ” She whispered, madly, barely coherently - but that didn’t even matter, there was no one around to hear her apologies anyway. The words seemed to be a compulsion. ‘Sorry’ was a phrase she kept repeating, wildly, unable to stop herself.

Back in the bedroom, the Master smiled to himself, content to see the Doctor still sleeping peacefully, despite the rather irritating ulcer that was Lucy.

The Doctor woke up a couple of hours later, and the Master was there for him.

“Hey.” The Doctor murmured, smiling at him, “You stayed.”

“Of course.” The Master replied.

The Doctor kissed him then, his hands reaching for his hair so he could feel his fingers tangle through it.

Breaking apart, the Doctor tucked his head underneath the Master’s chin. It was warm there, and his lips were also close enough to touch the Master’s neck.

The Doctor felt deeply sad all of a sudden. Why? Why did his stupid brain always have to ruin good things? He had been happy before, just the feeling of their skin touching had been enough - enough to block out the bad thoughts. But not anymore. They were coming back.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

The Doctor nodded a quick ‘yes’ into his chest in response.

“Are you cold?”

As a matter of fact, he was very warm. But not in an uncomfortable way - it was nice. Perfect, actually.

“No... I’m _fine_ , seriously.”

“Well, you’re clearly not fine.” The Master snapped back, and he sounded angry. More frustrated than angry though. Maybe worried, even.

“I _will be_ though.” The Doctor replied, with a very forced smirk, rolling their bodies so the Master was on his back and the Doctor was on top of him.

He kissed the Master, hotly and roughly, his nails slowly scraping down the length of the Master. The Master sighed with pleasure. The added bit of pain made it all the better, and the Doctor knew this.

“ _Can you hit me?_ ” The Doctor asked, pulling away, breathlessly.

“Hit you?”

“Yeah. I think I might like it.” The Doctor replied, his voice unclear and muddled, panting above him with a strangely dark glint in his eyes.

The Master grinned. The thought of hitting him was a very nice one. The Doctor grinned back, hips rocking into him.

His head tipped back for a moment with a small whine, and this was when the Master cracked.

He slapped the Doctor’s face, and the Doctor in return moaned theatrically, his back arching. He hit him again, and the Doctor moaned even louder.

This was definitely a game. The Master wasn’t sure what the Doctor wanted out of it, but for now, he was happy to play along. The Doctor played along with his games all the time, after all. It was only fair.

The Master hit him several more times, before deciding it was enough.

“ _Again_.” The Doctor hissed, through gritted teeth.

“No. You need to relax. You’re acting like me on _Vraxoin_.”

Vraxoin was the Galaxy’s equivalent of heroine. The drug caused extreme anger during withdrawal.

To the Master’s complete shock and surprise, the Doctor struck him across the face. It stung, and the Master was just about to laugh, when the Doctor hit hm again, even harder.

“Doctor...” He growled, warning, “ _Stop_.”This wasn’t a playful slap. This was getting close to a punch.

The Doctor smacked him once more, and this time the Master grabbed his wrists tightly, sitting up to push the Doctor off of him.

The Doctor was shouting now, wildly hitting the Master’s chest and anywhere he could reach, as the Master eventually flipped them over and pinned him down. He was thrashing frantically beneath him, like an aggressive, wounded animal, still yelling indistinctly, throwing the occasional bad word at the Master.

“Get off!” The Doctor roared, attempting to kick him now.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” The Master shouted, incredulously, raising his voice to be heard over the Doctor’s constant noise. “ _Guards_!”

A few seconds later, there were men storming into the room. “Detain him.” The Master said, coldly, letting them take over.

“Where would you like him, sir?”

“Just there is fine.”

He was held down as they handcuffed him to the headboard.

The Doctor screamed in frustration, pulling painfully against the handcuffs keeping his wrists above his head.

“ _I HATE YOU!_ ” The Doctor bellowed.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, dear. Keep still now.” The Master sighed, disappointedly.

The Doctor went limp, his head turned to the side to stare at the wall, no longer looking at the Master.

The Master could see tears running down his face. He had become strangely still and quiet.

“I’m going to leave you now until you learn how to act approvingly and respectfully.” The Master said, quietly. The Doctor didn’t reply, there were only more tears streaming down his face. “When I come back, you’re going to apologise to me.” The Master continued. “You are going to be very, _very sorry_.”

The Doctor didn’t look at him once. He shut his eyes with a grimace, and listened to the door shutting with an angry slam as the Master and the others presumably left.


	46. This Ended Today

The Doctor slept for a bit, despite it being the middle of the day - (not that time had any meaning on the Valiant anymore).

He simply had _nothing better_ to do, handcuffed to the bed, trapped and confined.

The Doctor remembered feeling wildly angry at the Master. It was like a cloud over his brain had finally lifted.

He had finally been able to see clearly. He realised how much he hated the situation he was living in. It was hell. He had been imprisoned by the Master for over a year now. And this morning, it really got to him.

He hated to admit that he had enjoyed hitting the Master over and over - enjoyed seeing the Master flinch in pain, enjoyed having that sense of power over him.

He seemed to have been getting some sort of _buzz_ , or _hit_ from it. Which, although concerning, was at least a change from the monotonous life he was forced to live everyday, aboard the Valiant.

The Doctor wondered how long it had been. His sense of time had been off for a while now.

It must have been at least a few hours, judging by how much his arms were aching, presumably due to them being stuck in the same position for a substantial amount of time.

The Doctor ended up waiting several more hours until the Master came back, probably some time in the evening.

He had waited the whole day now. It had been the morning when this had all started, after all. The Doctor only hoped that now the Master would be trusting enough to release him.

The Doctor had finally, had enough. He was actually going to do something about it.

_This ended today._

The Master was leaning by the doorway with a smirk on his face, looking right at the Doctor.

“Have you calmed down now?” The Master asked, patronisingly.

The Doctor resisted the very strong urge to snap back at him. He rolled his eyes, instead.

“What came over you?” He asked, curiously, with surprisingly no hint of malice at all.

“I was angry.” The Doctor replied, softly, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, I got that,” the Master chuckled.

“Do I _really_ need to _spell it out_ for you?”

“Yes...? _Maybe?_ ”

“You’ve enslaved or murdered the entire human race, you’ve imprisoned me, and now you’re making plans to conquer the entire universe. _Is that enough of a reason?”_

The Master stared at the Doctor, thoughtfully.

“I just got overwhelmed.” The Doctor added, quietly, _remembering his plan._

“You’re so much more to me than just a prisoner, you know.” The Master said, sadly. “I _love_ you.”

“Do you even know what that word means?”

“Yes, I do, I _know_ what it is - _I feel it_ for you. _Only you.”_

“You don’t tend to keep someone you love a _prisoner_.” The Doctor said, gently, with a meek, regretful smile. He was putting on his best acting-skills now.

The Doctor knew that he was manipulating the Master now, but he didn’t care. He was fed up of deciding escape was impossible. _He was going to try it, today, right now._ He was going to get to his Tardis, destroy the Paradox machine, and reverse everything, even without Martha Jones. Just with good old fashioned, physical strength and running. He could do that. He didn’t need to be smart. He just needed to be quick.

The Doctor watched as the Master’s expression changed. It was minute, but noticeable to him. His face softened slightly, as he moved to sit on the end of the bed.

The Doctor would have to take things slowly. He didn’t want it to look obvious that he was trying to get his handcuffs undone.

“Could you stay for a bit?” The Doctor asked, forcibly relaxing his body to look as tired and as un-threatening as possible.

The Master lay down next to him, and the Doctor smiled, “Thank you.” He sighed, shutting his eyes. “It’s been a bit lonely without you here.” The Doctor said, softly, eyes still shut.

“Really?”

“Mmm,” the Doctor hummed, sleepily. He waited a bit, then opened his eyes enough to look into the Master’s face, “I’m _sorry_. For getting angry... and hurting us both.”

The Master’s eyes were hard and stern but his mouth did twitch slightly.

“I won’t do it again,” the Doctor said, “I just want you to stay with me.” He shook his head, “There’s _nothing_ I care about more.”

The Doctor attempted to shuffle closer, making a show of the handcuffs which halted him. He winced, the metal digging into his wrists as he did so.

The Doctor sighed again, seemingly accepting his fate and visibly relaxing into the position he was stuck in. Physically and metaphorically.

“How does the baby feel?”

“Good.” The Doctor nodded, “Feels... _good._ I like it.” He added, biting his lower lip.

“You do?”

“ _Yeah_.” The Doctor breathed, “It feels like a part of you is always with me, you know. Like you’re _inside me._ ”

There was silence. He could hear the Master’s breathing - slightly more laboured and heavier than before, as though he was excited or anxious. Excited, most likely.

“It’s ‘gonna be good.”

“What is?”

“The baby.” The Doctor answered, blankly, like it was obvious, “I can’t wait.”

He saw the Master smile, then swallow, visibly, his eyes glancing downwards with a small lick of his lips, almost guiltily, “Would you like me to,” his hands moved to the Doctor’s handcuffs, “ _undo these?_ ”

The Doctor did his best to sound hesitant, “It would be nice to- to be able to kiss you,” He giggled. “You know, move a bit.”

The Doctor closely watched the Master with anticipation, as he sat up, his hand dug into his pocket and fished out what was presumably the key to the lock on his handcuffs.

The Doctor’s eyes darted hopefully to his, and the Master seemed to pause.

It had looked like he was about to release the Doctor, when had he stopped in his tracks.

 _Dammit!_ _The Doctor swore, internally._

 _Slowly,_ the Master dropped the key back into his pocket, “Your eyes gave it away.” He murmured, dispassionately, “You almost had me there.”

The Doctor shifted, awkwardly, feeling surprisingly upset by his own failure. There were definitely tears swelling in his eyes now, as he avoided the Master’s gaze.

“What were you planning to do?” The Master asked, curiously, “Incapacitate me somehow and make a run for it?” He added, more harshly.

The Doctor’s breathing was shorter now, more erratic, coming out in small huffs. He was distraught and angry, but mostly embarrassed now.

“Surely, you didn’t believe that would of actually worked?” The Master chuckled, cruelly. “Even if you did manage to overpower me, kill me, even - the guards would have stopped you before you managed to get anywhere near the Tardis.”

The Doctor stayed quiet, turning his head away from the Master as an angry tear fell down his cheek.

“Well, isn’t that _disappointing_.” The Master tutted, tracing a firm finger down the Doctor’s jawline, “I was really beginning to trust you... Looks like I can’t. A shame.”

The Doctor screwed his eyes shut, willing away the pain, attempting to move away from the Master’s scolding touch.

The Master lay back down again, chucking the key to his handcuffs away, far across the room. “We’re still moving, by the way.” The Master whispered into the Doctor’s ear, the front of him fitting closely to the back of the Doctor’s body. “I don’t know whether you’ll ever see Earth again.”

The Doctor shuddered in repressed rage, feeling the Master’s smile press into the back of his neck.

“You’ll come to accept your new life, eventually, I’m sure.” The Master purred, stroking down the Doctor’s ribcage through his thin, cotton shirt, “It’s just going to take a little _longer than I expected.”_


	47. A Little Party

His Alpha telling him to sleep had a surprisingly strong effect on him. The Master had uttered it to him, then mentioned something about eating afterwards, which he didn’t manage to hear the end of, as his eyes had already fluttered shut. 

A few days later, the Master had woken him that morning to tell him that today was moving-day. 

His hands were no longer handcuffed uncomfortably above his head anymore at least, but he had now been confined to one room, locked in. The Master hadn’t let him leave since he had worked out what the Doctor had been planning to do. Maybe it was just a punishment, or maybe the Master was genuinely paranoid about losing him now. 

The Master sat down to give him breakfast that morning, and the Doctor noticed himself feeling hungrier than usual. He ate a little more quickly, and actually finished his plate for the first time in a long while.

Without a word, only a smile, the Master took the empty plate from him and placed it on the side table with a little clink. 

“We’re going to be having a little celebratory party tonight, for the change of location.” 

“Party?” The Doctor asked, blankly. He couldn’t imagine the Master hosting a party. Who would he even invite, apart from the Doctor? Was ‘party’ the Master’s own special code for ‘mass slaughter’?

“Just a few people.” The Master explained, casually, “I need other... subordinates to run the universe the way I like when I’m not around. Wingmen, if you like.” 

‘A few people’ turned out to be several hundred. 

“There are so many...” The Doctor hissed, feeling anxious, looking through the one-way mirror at the large numbers of people, aliens and humans alike, on the other side. The Doctor could see a lot of his past enemies out there - a lot of nasty ones who would love to see the Doctor dismembered.

They were in a large, intricately designed hall, located on a ship now several light-years away from Earth. 

“Relax. You’re safe with me.” The Master whispered. The Doctor flinched slightly, realising the Master was so much closer to him than he had thought. 

“I know.” The Doctor said, surprised to hear those words coming out of his own mouth, true or not.

“Still, It’s going to be fun killing the ones who try.” The Master smirked, “It also eliminates the disloyal ones straight away.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Oh, you just stay with me. Look pretty.” He added, smiling wider. 

“Right.” The Doctor replied, not sure whether he was more annoyed or disappointed.

“Don’t worry, I had all weapons confiscated upon entering. But who knows, maybe someone’s tricked the system?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I may have mentioned you were going to be here today.” The Master said excitedly, biting his lip mischievously.

“What?” The Doctor asked, actually disbelieving him...

“I’m guessing a lot of them would risk sneaking in some weapons for the chance of killing you.” He said, quietly, still smiling.

“Great.” The Doctor huffed, sarcastically, “So how are you going to stop these lunatics from killing me? Or is that left to me to to figure out?”

“I have some systems in place. They won’t be able to touch you. Just stick close.” 

“Why am I even here?” The Doctor snapped, “It’s not like I can do anything, is it?”

“I told you. You being here helps me cut-off the weak links and destroy the disloyal ones. I’ve made it very clear that you are not to be harmed, and if any of them are stupid enough to try, I’ll at least know which ones I can kill straight away.”

“You think you can trust any of them?” The Doctor said, with disgust, looking out into the room of his enemies. 

“As long as they fear me enough, I can trust anyone.” He replied, simply.

“Looks like you can’t trust me, then.” 

The Master handed him some clothes to wear and an empty room to get changed in before they joined the party. 

He lay out his outfit on the bed to have a proper look at it. It was a black tuxedo, rather like the one the Master was wearing. He would have much preferred to wear his brown suit, or even one of the Master’s cotton shirts with some simple trousers. This was far too over the top. It was embarrassing. He wasn’t a guest, or a host - he was a prisoner, dressed up in fancy clothing that didn’t belong to him. 

The Doctor sighed, proceeding to get changed as he heard the Master make a noise of impatience outside. 

“Perfect.” The Master said, examining the Doctor dressed in the new tuxedo, as he exited the room. 

“Shall we go then?” The Master held out his arm, silently, and the Doctor took it within his own. They started walking, before the Master stopped abruptly and the Doctor had to stumble a little to keep his balance. “Don’t walk out of my sight, yes?” 

“Why?”

“Part of the systems in place to keep you safe.” He shrugged, “Plus, I like having you on my arm.” He added, smirking. 

Together they entered the large hall full of people, the Doctor’s arms carefully looped through his, as requested. 

The Doctor noticed the stares straight away. He wasn’t sure who they they were watching more - him or the Master.

He also couldn’t decide whether they were sneering at him, or afraid of him. They were certainly very interested in him, at least. Eyes tended to linger on their joined arms, probably wondering what kind of alliance there was between them, and whether they were dangerous together or not. 

The Master sat them both down on a large, comfortable settee. Not too long later, and a lot of the party were coming to join them, even standing around the seats if there wasn’t enough room. The Master wittered on about... something. The Doctor was more focused on the number of eyes directly on him. 

A heavy-footed Slitheen walked past, side-eyeing the Doctor with what looked like a terrible grin on its face. 

There were some humanoid-looking aliens, sitting opposite the Doctor and the Master. A few of them were focused on their conversation with the Master, only sparing the Doctor the occasional glance. 

There was one woman in particular who seemed to be eyeing him. She was sitting on the end of the seat, arms linked with her male partner, just like the Doctor.

They made eye-contact, and she smiled flirtatiously at him. The Doctor blushed suddenly, hastily glancing down at his feet, before his eyes locked onto hers again, quite magnetically.

She had luminous skin. Too luminous to be human. She looked rather ethereal. She had dark hair and deep, purple eyes which seemed to freeze the Doctor momentarily. 

She took a small sip from her drink, maintaining eye contact, before leaning into the space of her partner whilst still smiling pleasantly at the Doctor. Her head was rested on the man’s shoulder now but... she was most definitely looking at the Doctor, almost dreamily.

“I see your Doctor has an eye for the pretty ladies.” The man said, swiftly breaking the Doctor out of his little daze. 

The Master laughed, taking the Doctor’s hand and kissing it. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Perfectly understandable.” The man interrupted him, with a chuckle. 

“She’s a Syrax.” The Master whispered into the Doctor’s ear, a smile on his lips.

The Doctor was sure he had heard of the species before. But he couldn’t quite remember what was so remarkable about them. 

“Strong aphrodisiacs found in the gills.” The Master explained, softly. 

The Doctor hadn’t noticed the gills on her neck. Presumably she could also breathe in oxygen through the lungs, or some other similar system. 

“Particularly potent to Time Lords, especially. And certain other humanoids...” the Master continued.

“Do you like him, darling?” The man asked her. The Doctor noted that this was the first time he had seen him or anyone actually speaking to her like she was a person. Actually asking her a question. 

She nodded, still smiling, her eyes on the Doctor, “I haven’t seen a Time Lord in such a long time...” She purred, “Let alone two at once.” Even her voice sounded silky to the Doctor, sweet and sickly, like honey. There was danger in her - he could sense that. But there was also an excitement - an excitement which made the Doctor want to jump across the seats and kiss her right there. Maybe she wanted that too...

“Doctor!” the Master giggled, snapping him out of his daydream once more.

“She really likes you...” the man considered, thoughtfully, watching the two of them with hungry eyes. He squeezed her thigh with one of his big hands, and to the Doctor’s surprise, she whimpered, still seemingly unable to take her eyes off the Doctor. “She’s getting very worked up.” He added, pinching her side, “Aren’t you? Very needy.”

To the Doctor’s horror, the man grabbed her breast, and she moaned, embarrassingly loudly. The Doctor couldn’t help (and was ashamed) of the arousal that stirred in him.

“Very high libido,” the Master murmured into his ear. “Poor thing. Can’t help it.”

“Are you sure she wants you to touch her?” The Doctor spoke up, ignoring the Master. He was taking advantage of her - using her and embarrassing her in front of an audience.

“What, would you rather take over? You’re welcome to, she’d like that a lot.” The man grinned, with a wink.

The Doctor bit his lip, tensely, finding the idea more appealing than he would have liked to admit to. 

“No.” The Doctor said, firmly, “Leave her alone.” He added, “I’m getting a drink.” He then muttered, standing up. Without asking for permission from the Master, he walked away towards the bar.


	48. The Master

The Doctor sipped on his drink moodily, watching the Master and the group of people he had been sat with, laughing heartily. He had been about to return, before realising he actually didn’t want to. The Master didn’t seem to mind either, too engrossed in his _(probably disgusting)_ conversation.

The Doctor finished his drink with a few gulps, putting it down with slightly more force than necessary, now feeling angry. Oh, how he wished he could make that horrible man suffer...

The Syrax girl was a slave of some kind, clearly, or indebted to him in a way she couldn’t pay off. And he was using her and objectifying her, trying to sell her off to the Doctor like some kind of novelty sex toy.

The Doctor desperately wanted to get away from the loud chatter of the room. He was sick of the constant noise. He wondered whether he could go into a bathroom and disappear there for a while. That sounded like the best idea he had, anyway.

He remembered the Master telling him to stay in sight, and was now deciding whether he should risk breaking the rules or not.

“What?” The Doctor snapped, more aggressively than he had intended, noticing an Sycorax on a barstool who was obviously staring at him. The Sycorax looked away, quickly.

The Doctor felt bad for snapping at them. He was being childish, quite honestly. He was acting like a madman - not the Doctor.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me.” The Doctor sighed, keeping his eyes off the Sycorax to avoid intimidating them any further. “ _Really_.” He added, more sincerely, “I’m pretty much harmless these days. The Master made sure of that.”

The Sycorax, clearly still afraid of the Doctor nevertheless, decided to keep their eyes on their drink and didn’t respond.

Frustrated with himself, the Doctor muttered an apology to the Sycorax before walking away from the commotion of the party. He was feeling a little dizzy and light-headed as well - he probably did need a break.

He found a quiet bathroom. It was empty, as far as he could see, which was a relief, as he felt deprived from privacy.

The Master knew everything about the Doctor and exactly what he was doing all the time on the Valiant. At least, here, he might get a few minutes to himself.

He leaned over the marble counter where the sinks were, purposely avoiding the large mirror in front of him. He didn’t particularly want to look at himself. He felt disgusting. This whole place was disgusting. All of it - built on a wealthiness that was exploited and corrupted. The wealth of evil.

_The Master._

The Doctor slammed his fist against the marble in anger, uncaring of the bones that were now broken and the blood - red now smeared across the white counter.

_Since when did he ever hurt himself? Since now, he supposed, sadly._

He hissed in pain, clutching his broken hand. But the pain was also strangely satisfying, and that made it worth it.

Still feeling odd in the head, dizzy and slightly disorientated, he also began to feel nauseas. He leaned over a sink quickly, worried he was going to actually vomit. He rushed into one of the cubicles, and retched into the toilet. He hadn’t eaten much recently, so it was mainly acid from his stomach and a bit of his drink from earlier coming up.

After an hour or so, he emerged from the bathroom, still shaking a little from the shock and discomfort of his broken hand and his sickness.

“Ah, you’re back!” The Master said, cheerfully, as the Doctor sat back down next to him.

The Doctor hid his broken hand in his pocket. He didn’t want to see the Master’s reaction to it, whatever that might be.

The Doctor glanced to the Syrax girl, giving her a rather tight, but nevertheless, polite smile. It wasn’t that she had done anything wrong, of course. She was completely innocent. But looking at her too much simply made him worry he was going to murder the vile man sitting next to her... The man who currently had an arm around her waist. Oh, how the Doctor wished he could wrap his hands around that man’s neck...

As if the Master knew, he took the Doctor’s not-broken hand into his own.

 _‘Everything okay? You disappeared for a while.’_ The Master said, softly, directly into his brain with telepathic connection.

 _‘Wasn’t feeling too well.’_ The Doctor responded, _‘I’m still not, actually.’_

_‘You might be getting close to a regeneration drain. That’s okay, we can leave now.’_

_‘Oh, good,’_ the Doctor replied, his sense of relief flooding through the Master’s mind, ‘ _I was getting close to killing that man.’_ The Doctor continued, as a half-joke. But the Master seemed to take his wish seriously.

_‘You can, if you want. I don’t need him. He’s unintelligent and completely unremarkable. Boring.’_

A very, very dark part of the Doctor’s mind agreed with him. He could kill him. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to miss him! Then that poor Syrax girl would be free of him. He would be doing the universe a favour...

 _‘You could do it quick and easily.’_ The Master continued, seductively, _‘You could even do it without an audience, if you liked.’_ The Master was smiling at him now.

It was difficult for the Doctor to hear the outside world, the chatter going on around him, when the Master’s speech and thoughts were so loud in his head. With the Master in his head, it would be so easy to kill the man. He wouldn’t hear any screams or cries for mercy. He wouldn’t see any pain in the man’s eyes, in his last moments, his final breath.

The Doctor’s thoughts seemed to excite the Master. He exhaled shakily, his smile practically audible.

 _‘No.’_ The Doctor replied, finally, _‘You know I can’t do that.’_

The Master looked a little disappointed for a fracture of a second, before covering it up with a wide smile, “Shall we go, then?” the Master said, aloud, standing up and pulling the Doctor up with him.

“You’re leaving?”

The Doctor nearly flinched when he heard the soft, saddened voice of the Syrax girl.

“You never even asked her name.” The Master said quietly, a while later, as they walked away from the party.

“Why do you care?” He snapped back.

“I don’t.” The Master replied, nonchalantly, with a shrug. It was a small lie, but the Master would never admit that. “Means I get you all to myself.” The Master said, with a smirk.


	49. Awaiting His Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry for the really long wait for this chapter update. I had difficulty writing this and I’m still not fully satisfied with it. I get obsessed with having every detail perfect and it sometimes stops me from finishing stuff - so I just decided to go for it and upload this. Let me know in the comments if it’s okay and you would still like to see more. ❤️ I have plenty more ideas...

The Doctor and the Master took a teleport from the party ship to another private ship a few Galaxies away. There was a tension between them as they travelled, only the Doctor wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

The Master had been serious about leaving the Valiant, then. They had moved. They were many light-years away from the Valiant now.

He had no idea where Lucy or Captain Jack were though. For all he knew, they could have been left behind.

The Master had led the Doctor to their bedroom and left him there, telling the Doctor that he had something to do, and that he would be back soon.

The Doctor flopped back onto the large, plush bed with a sigh, awaiting the Master’s return. That felt like all he did these days. His whole life seemed to revolve around the Master now. It was boring without him.

He shut his eyes, not feeling particularly tired, but rather dismal.

His mind kept wandering back to the poor Syrax girl, the girl he hadn’t even asked the name of. This evening had been a failure. He hadn’t achieved anything - only allowed abuse to continue.

The Master joined him not too long later, just as he had promised.

The scent of the Master filled the room immediately, and the Doctor shifted, uncomfortably, realising that the aphrodisiacs from earlier were probably still having an effect on him.

He also registered the fact that he had been staring at the Master a little too long to be considered normal. He looked away, quickly, hoping his cheeks weren’t pink and it hadn’t been too obvious. Of course, nothing was too subtle for the Master to notice, especially when it came to the Doctor. _The Master saw everything._ He just knew him so well.

The Master wasted no time, crawling straight across the bed, eyes dark and hungry on the Doctor, like a snow leopard stalking its prey in the mountain slopes.

“Master...” The Doctor moaned, softly, as he moved onto him, straddling the Doctor from above.

He leaned down to kiss the Doctor, his hands immediately grasping for his shirt, in such a way as though his life depended on it.

“I know you wanted to _fuck her_ really.” The Master said, breathlessly, as he pulled away, his hands then resting on the Doctor’s chest to keep himself upright.

“I-“

“And that’s okay.” The Master continued, panting, a large smile on his face, “But I think you’ll find that I’m better.”

“Yes,” the Doctor sighed, just as breathlessly, nodding a little impulsively. Was he scared? Or just desperate now?

“And I know you wanted- _you_ \- to _kill_ him. I _know_ you _did_.” The Master said, in a rush of excited words, almost nonsensically,

“I dont-“

“ _You did,_ _you did, you did_ ,” the Master repeated, quickly, pressing love-bites in a line across the Doctor’s neck, “I _know_ you did.”

He should be trying to _argue_ with the Master, but despite himself, the Doctor clung onto him, _pulling him in closer for another furious, passionate kiss._

The Master moaned, his hips rolling into the Doctor’s space.

“How it would have felt...” the Master breathed, “ _Imagine_ \- killing him and then _taking her._ Like one of your little pets on the Tardis.” The Doctor inhaled sharply, freezing all over, horrified by the Master’s suggestion.

“Don’t _say_ that!” The Doctor gasped.

The Master’s lips found his again, and coaxing him into relaxation, the Doctor gave in, going slack against him once more. He kissed the Master back, almost lazily. The Doctor held back, unsure of what he wanted. But at the same time, kissing him felt so good. It was the obvious, easy option.

They lay together, some time later, out of breath, coming down from their high after a very explosive time together.

Feeling himself relax, the exhaustion and illness from earlier became more prominent. The Doctor realised how exhausted he felt now.

He turned onto his side, pecking a small but loving kiss onto the Master’s cheek, before resting his head on his lover’s chest and letting his own eyes shut of their own accord.

He awoke not long later to a strange tingling sensation in his limbs, particularly his legs. Not wanting to wake the Master, he tried to keep still, only curiously testing out the sensation by curling up his toes.

He gasped however, feeling a stabbing, painful, heat in his stomach. The Master woke up too, combing his fingers through the Doctor’s hair in worry, “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” the Doctor admitted. The hot pain was still there, only not as sharp now - more of a gentle, dull ache.

He gripped onto the bedsheets tighter, the pain beginning to worsen.

“Doctor?”

His hands seemed to be glowing golden, and he found that his whole body was too.

“It’s just one of those... ‘ _Regeneration drains’_ you told me about, I think.” The Doctor said, unsurely, masking the pain by gritting his teeth together, to make sure no sounds came out of his mouth. The entirety of his skin felt like it was burning. “I wasn’t conscious the last time this happened - guess it’s pretty painful then.”

The Master stroked the Doctor’s hair, then kissed his temple several times, “I’m sorry, dear. It will pass.” He whispered, soothingly.

Feeling progressively anxious, fizzing all over, the Doctor whimpered into the crook of the Master’s neck, as a particularly sharp shock pain disturbed him. He wasn’t normally like this, normally pain didn’t affect him so much. But the reminder of the child inside of him was enough to make the physical pain emotionally hurtful.

By morning, the pain had gone. The only reminder left of it was the tiredness from the lack of sleep that night.

The Doctor cuddled in closer to the Master, an arm wrapped around his waist and his head tucked underneath the Master’s chin, resting on his shoulder.

“Is Lucy here, on the ship, with us?” The Doctor asked, sleepily, looking up at the Master through his eyelashes.

“If you want her to be.” The Master shrugged, “I left her on the Valiant, but I can bring her here, for you, if you want.”

“What about Jack? Where is he?”

“On the Valiant also. But he’s being transferred to this ship today. I always enjoy a bit of torturing. It’s especially handy that he never dies, too.” He paused, then added, with a rather evil smile, “Poor Jack.” He said, quite reminiscently.

“What do you mean?” The Doctor asked, quickly.

“Well, I _may_ or _may not_ have have _cut off Jack’s legs_ and watched him bleed out _for your bad behaviour the other day._ Remember? When you thought about escaping me?”

“I remember.” The Doctor replied, coldly. “I’d like to see Lucy again, please.” He said, with a sigh, “I can still _help_ her.”

“Unlike the _Earth_. Or the _universe_.” The Master added, cruelly, smiling broadly at the after-thought.

“I guess.” The Doctor said, sadly.

The Doctor dressed himself that morning with even less energy than usual. He had only put on his shirt, before sitting back down on the bed with a huff of... frustration. He barely ever had an outlet for his emotions, as so much of his time was spent being ruled over by the Master. So he was left with a lot of pent-up anger.

His attempt at escaping had been a fail, a stupidly, easy fail too. It was embarrassing. What had even been going through his head - to think that he could escape the Master by running away? It was ridiculous, looking back on it. Truly humiliating. Maybe he was losing his mind. In fact, that would explain his recent mess-ups.

The Master had left him not long ago, explaining that he had work to do, ( _again_ ). Leaving the Doctor, sitting here, pathetically, with nothing to do but await his return.


	50. His Wife Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :)

The Master had allowed Lucy to return to the Doctor, as requested.

The Doctor still hadn’t heard anything about Jack, though. Whenever he brought him up, the Master would change the subject, or simply tell him to shut up. Clearly, the Master did not want the Doctor to see or talk about Jack.

Why this was, he didn’t know. But he had a feeling it was something to do with the Master being somewhat threatened by Jack.

Unlike Lucy, Jack was immortal. The Master knew that the Doctor was considerably more likely to form a lasting connection with Jack rather than Lucy.

The Master wanted the Doctor to himself, and knew that Lucy did not have the capabilities to steal the Doctor’s hearts. He cared for her, sure. He loved her in the same way he loved humanity. But there wasn’t the same connection between them that the Doctor and the Master had. In fact, one of the only bonds Lucy and the Doctor had was their shared infatuation for the Master.

The two of them had again ended up tumbling into bed together, somehow.

It had started off as an innocent, heart-to-heart talk.

Then, Lucy had kissed him, probably fantasising about the Master, and he had kissed her back, probably doing the same. And one thing led to _another_...

The Master was delighted every time he found the two of them under the sheets together. Or at least he seemed to find it amusing - the idea of them sharing affection. Maybe he just enjoyed seeing his pets playing with each other.

The Master slipped into bed with them that morning, sandwiching himself between the two of them, in the middle of the two warm bodies.

He had been kissing the Doctor, completely neglecting Lucy, relishing in, and loving the pain it was causing her. He would make the Doctor whine and moan and sigh under his touch, further adding to Lucy’s suffering and intense jealousy.

The Master had pulled the Doctor out of bed, enthusiastically, a large grin on his face as he led the Doctor to the wardrobe, only to kiss him against it.

“I think Lucy’s wishing she was you right now.” The Master murmured, mischievously, his eyes darting to Lucy who was still laying in bed, watching the two of them with wide eyes. “He’s _my wife now_ , darling!” The Master called to her, with a loud laugh, despite her only being a few feet away.

“Master...” the Doctor gasped, nearly shaking with pleasure as the Master’s hand stroked down, from his sternum, all the way down his chest, to his navel.

Like fire on ice - the Doctor seemed to melt at the slightest touch from the Master.

“Shouldn’t we - get dressed now?” The Doctor managed to say, despite being completely out of breath.

“I should...” He replied, absent mindedly, “Although I’d much rather you stayed in this. You look good.” he said silkily, roughly grabbing onto the collar of the Master’s own loose shirt that the Doctor was wearing. It was one of the Master’s shirts. The Doctor wouldn’t say he was looking ‘good’ - he only had a shirt on, after all. He wasn’t dressed up or anything.

The Master then nuzzled into it, inhaling deeply through the nose, “You smell like _me_.” He growled, happily, like some kind of territorially-satisfied animal.

“I can still smell a bit of Lucy on you too, though.” He added, irritably, with a small, angry twitch of his nose. “I want you to wash that off.”

The Doctor nodded, hesitantly. He could sense the Master’s inconsistent and probably also dangerous mood today. He would need to be careful - for the sake of everyone, really.

The Master put two hands on the Doctor’s shoulders, and with an unnerving smile, moved the Doctor away from the wardrobe so he could open it. He took out one of his pristine, ironed shirts to wear, following with the rest of his usual smart suit.

“I’m going out today.” The Master said, as he dressed.

“You are?” The Doctor asked, sitting down on the bed to watch him, “Where are you going?”

“It’s about half-a-Galaxy away. I’d like you to come too.” That didn’t really answer the Doctor’s question.

“You think it’s safe to let me out?” The Doctor asked, with a chuckle, despite himself.

The Master hadn’t allowed the Doctor to leave the Valiant ever. Well, except now, technically, as they were on a new ship - but still.

It was understandable, really. Obviously the chances of the Doctor escaping increased if he left the facility.

“I think so.” The Master said, thoughtfully, almost to himself, “I’ll have to take some extra precautions though.”

“It would be nice to go out.” The Doctor sighed, remembering his days in the Tardis. He couldn’t care less what the precautions were. Obviously walking around in chains would be embarrassing but it was well worth it if he got to go out.

“So how would you feel about wearing that _lovely_ collar of yours?” The Master said, quietly, with a sly smile on his lips.

The Doctor had almost forgotten about that. It felt like such a long time ago. It was so long before the countdown. Everything before the countdown felt like a bit of a blur.

The Master had made him wear a collar in that awful video he recorded of the two of them. He still had that to humiliate him, too. But for some reason, he had never chosen to broadcast it. It seemed the Master didn’t want ordinary eyes to see the Doctor in such a low place. That video was for the Master to enjoy, and his eye’s alone.

“I’m guessing that if I don’t wear it you won’t let me out.” The Doctor replied, wearily.

“Well... I could always get it on you by _force_.” The Master shrugged, “But that would be _no fun_. So I’d like you to make the decision. You put the collar on willingly, and I’ll take you out with me. If not, you stay here for the rest of eternity. Your choice!” He said, cheerfully.

Now, that was humiliating. Of course, the Doctor would have to put the collar on. He really didn’t have a choice. The Doctor nodded, stiffly, finding even Lucy’s presence mortifying now.

The Master’s stern face suddenly split into a massive grin, “See?” He said, to Lucy, “Would you look at that! My Doctor is so good for me these days. He’s been trained well.”

Lucy nodded in response when the Master waited a fracture of a second for her reply.

“Now, kneel for me, Doctor.” The Master said, coldly, with an air of more danger now.

The Doctor kneeled, and as he did so, he noticed the very slight swell of his belly touching his thighs. Maybe the baby had grown some more.

The Doctor shut his eyes for a moment, attempting to reach out to any sort of telepathic consciousness forming in the baby.

There was nothing. Was he supposed to be worried by that? He just didn’t know what was normal.

The Doctor opened his eyes as the Master unwrapped a small, black box in front of him. He took out the collar, but it looked a little different from when he last saw it.

Unlike the last one, which was a dark leather, this one was silver. A circular ring with no visible buckle or clasp.

“Clever little thing, this.” The Master murmured, as the collar clicked open for him, “Bio-locked. Won’t come off. It also works as a tracker, so if you do manage to escape, or get lost or stolen - this thing will lead me to you, _always_.”

It was cool against the Doctor’s neck. With another small click, it had seemingly attached itself there. The Doctor immediately ran his hands over it, finding it to be completely smooth, with no signs of where it had closed. There wasn’t a lock to pick or a clasp to break.

“It looks very nice, if I do say so myself.” The Master said, with a coy smirk.

Lucy sat up on the bed so she was on her knees as well, watching the two of them more attentively.

“Do I get to go out too?” Lucy asked.

“No.” The Master snapped back, with a roll of his eyes. “You can be a good little wife, and stay at home. Hm? Do some cleaning. Or whatever stupid human wives are supposed to do.”

The Master’s cruelty was unmatched to no one. The Doctor could feel Lucy’s emotion - the tears swelling in her eyes.

“Harry-“ She choked.

“-That is _not_ my name, _dear_.” The Master replied, teeth gritted in anger.

“Master, please, you don’t have to-“ the Doctor began, pleadingly,

“-Be _quiet_ , Doctor. I’ve had quite enough of your chatter.” He interrupted, harshly.

The Doctor stayed silent, watching Lucy with empathy.

“In fact, I don’t want you to speak again until I give you permission to.” The Master added, callously.

“ _What_?”

“Hush, Doctor. Starting now.”

The Doctor closed his mouth, deciding to take the Master’s orders seriously. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that the Doctor knew only too well.


	51. Always Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! So there’s a small sex scene in this chapter. As usual, its not described in loads of detail, (honestly I don’t think I’d be able to write that very well!) But the themes and connotations are... dark. No worse than anything we’ve seen before in this story though.

The journey there was surprisingly long. The Doctor wasn’t used to such long travelling times on the Tardis.

But of course, they were not using the Tardis to travel, as the Master didn’t trust the Doctor enough yet.

Instead they used a small ship, which had docked off their larger ship they now seemed to be staying in. It was piloted by a couple of unseen humanoids at the front. The Doctor and the Master had a cozy compartment to themselves. The seats were plush and their was even little coffee table with drinks and such.

The Doctor’s favourite part was the windows though, which were looking out into the expanse of Space. He opted sitting next to a window rather than sitting next to the Master. He spent most of the journey staring out, avidly, remembering his time amongst the stars.

_Oh, how he missed it. How he missed that dear old Tardis of his._

Looking away from the window, he saw the Master drinking an amber liquid out of a glass, rather tensely. He had his arms crossed, and his eyes seemed to be focused on the floor, seemingly deep in thought.

The Doctor was about to question him about his particularly moody behaviour recently, when he remembered he still hadn’t been given permission to talk. The Doctor sat there, sadly, his eyes meeting the Master’s occasionally.

He wished he could speak, because despite everything, he cared. He cared about the Master’s feelings, in a strangely deep way, which he was unable to control. It was instinctual. He was his partner now, after all. The only person he had left. His mate. The parent of his unborn-child. He could hate the Master, but still love him at the same time. Hate and love were quite indistinguishable when it came to the two of them.

The Doctor moved across the seats to sit directly next to the Master. Quite by accident, he was on his knees, to the side of the Master, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder.

The Master put his drink down with a quiet clunk, keeping still as he calmly watched the Doctor for whatever he was going to do next. It seemed the Master was not going to make any moves. It was up to the Doctor.

‘I wanted to go out today because I wanted to be _with you._ ’ The Doctor admitted, wordlessly, one mind to another, as he rested his fingers on the Master’s temple.

He then kissed the Master, softly, on the cheek, before pulling away with an unsure smile.

“You _still_ want to leave, though.” The Master said. The Doctor had attempted to escape, after all.

‘Yes...’ the Doctor replied, more certainly, ‘I always do. _Always have._ I’ve been running since I was a child.’ He smiled, ‘But I’d _much_ rather _you_ came with me.’ The Doctor knew it was hopeless to try, really. The Master would never leave his power over the Doctor to travel with him. ‘ _We_ could travel the stars, it would be my _honour_. Because you don’t need to _own_ the Universe - just _see_ it. To have the _privilege_ of seeing the _whole_ of _time_ and space... _That’s ownership enough._ ’

“Enough talking now.” The Master said, dismissively.

‘I wasn’t talking-‘

“-Well, _communicating_ , whatever. Same thing. I’m bored of it.” The Master interrupted, pushing the Doctor into telepathic silence once again, “Let’s make that one of the rules, hm? No talking includes telepathy now.”

The Doctor nodded, reluctantly, feeling rather put-down by the Master’s rejection.

With a small sigh, the Doctor sat back down properly onto the seat next to the Master.

Throughout the journey, the Doctor’s head slowly slipped onto the Master’s shoulder as he began to feel a little sleepy.

The Master didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, the Doctor could distantly sense the Master’s satisfaction. It was nicer than the Doctor would ever admit.

The Doctor was awoken by a small jog of the ship, seemingly as the ship stopped, reaching its destination. The Master’s fingers were combing through the Doctor’s hair as he looked up at him, tiredly.

“I’ve enjoyed watching you sleep.” The Master murmured quietly, with a small smile down at him. _Creep_.

The Doctor was about to ask why, when he remembered the new rules about no speaking.

“Good boy,” the Master said, happily, noticing the Doctor’s obvious effort to do as he was told, “ _Very_ good.”

Having nothing better to do in the ways of communicating, the Doctor pushed himself up properly to kiss the Master.

The Master’s arms looped around the Doctor’s neck, hungrily, trapping him there, and soon the soft, innocent kiss had turned into a _fully-blown snog._

As they pulled away from each other, the Doctor suddenly felt the urge to _pleasure him entirely._

The Doctor wanted the Master to be... _pleased_ with him. He wanted the Master to be glad of his company - _happy he was there with him._

Quickly, his hands flew down to the Master’s fly, and next he was undoing the zip, shakily.

He wanted the Master to _want_ him - to want to be with him _all the time_ , the way the Doctor did.

The Doctor hated how frequently the Master would leave him to ‘work.’ He wanted the Master to take him with him, everywhere. He wanted to prove that he _could_ be worth the Master’s time.

He pulled out the Master’s cock, stroking the shaft of it as the Master sighed a long sigh, _full of glee_. The Doctor gasped softly, feeling his own pleasure ramp up just from the Master’s reaction.

He was sliding onto the floor next, on his knees again, probably for the third or fourth time in only that day. His lips were parted in anticipation as he stared up at the Master from between his legs.

There was a dark glint in the Master’s eyes as the Doctor took his cock within his own mouth, eye-contact _unwavering_.

It was intense, seeing the Doctor looking up at him like - _that_. The Doctor looked _hungry_ and _driven_ and _focused_ , and everything that the Master was. The thought of that almost finished the Master there and then.

The Master grabbed onto the Doctor’s hair, and the Doctor moaned obscenely as he tugged on it slightly, moving his mouth further up his length.

The Doctor heard a distant knock, probably on their compartment door, but ignored it, in favour of continuing his loud, greedy sucking.

“Give us a minute!” The Master panted, quite breathlessly, calling out to whoever was knocking. The Doctor found himself not wondering or caring who it was, only wanting to finish his job.

The Master chuckled to himself, faintly, his fingers now painfully attached to the Doctor’s hair, pulling tightly at the scalp.

The Master came not long after, with a full-body shudder and a groan.

Satisfied and a little smug, the Doctor stood up, wiping his lips on his sleeve with a grin.

“Looks like you can put your mouth to good use, then.” The Master grinned back, a little snidely, reminding the Doctor of his orders to keep quiet.

He stood up, momentarily using the Doctor’s shoulder for balance. The Master’s lips caught his own in one last, lazy kiss, before the Master took his hand and led him towards... wherever they had arrived, and _whoever was on the other side of that door..._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading so far! 
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you’re enjoying this and would like me to upload more. 
> 
> Leave a Kudos if you feel like it! Makes my day :D
> 
> Thank you


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